


The Day The Circus Came To Town

by capn_hoozits



Series: Sons of the Desert [4]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Ishbal | Ishval, Original Character(s), Original Ishvalan Characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-04-23 19:14:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 83,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4888768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capn_hoozits/pseuds/capn_hoozits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years after the Promised Day, Ishval is "invaded."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was autumn in Resembool, but when Winry woke up that morning, she expected the ground to be blanketed in snow. She had dreamt that she was back in Baschool in the middle of a thickening blizzard. All around her was a feeling of dread, although there didn't seem to be another living soul in sight. She was certain that something terrible was going to happen that she couldn't bear to face and she forced herself to wake up. She still felt chilled and she wrapped a blanket around herself as she went downstairs to start a pot of coffee. She sat down at the kitchen table and stared distractedly at the clear glass knob on top of the tall, blue enameled pot, waiting for the coffee to start percolating, but her mind wandered back to the events that had stirred her dreams.

_They had climbed up the concrete steps to the very top and out through the roof access door. The wind from the impending blizzard whipped her in the face as soon as the door was open, even though the broad bulk of Scar's back shielded her from the worst of it. He stood still for several moments, listening for sounds other than the keening of the wind. Then he tensed, waiting for Ed's signal. Down below them, a portion of the front of the building was blasted away._

_He turned to her, his expression hard and cold with determination but with something else just underneath the surface. It might have been remorse, but she frowned back at him. Neither of them could afford to consider that right now._

_"Let's just do this!" she said through her chattering teeth._

_He gave a curt nod and stepped around her so he could pick her up with his right arm. His injured left arm wouldn't bear her weight for long. He wrapped his arm around her waist quickly, but with surprising gentleness, and lifted her off her feet. It wasn't comfortable and she let out a little oof of a grunt._

_He hiked her up a little more securely and headed for the edge of the roof. She hung limply in his grip, as though he had somehow stunned her or knocked her unconscious. It was more practical than having her put on a show of struggling and screaming, which would have wasted a lot of energy. She also didn't want to risk the chance of him dropping her, for all his pledge of not letting any harm come to her. She could hear Ed yelling down below, but she couldn't quite make out the words. She really hoped he wouldn't blow the whole thing and would just keep to the plan. Other voices floated up to them, but nothing clear. Then Scar's voice boomed out._

_"Kimblee! Do you remember when we first met! It seems we've changed places!"_

_Whatever that means, Winry thought. I sure hope you're not going to waste time gloating._

_He set her down, her back against the lip of the roof. She kept to the limp rag doll act, but cracked open one eye just in time to meet a look of what might have been concern if he had kept it up long enough for her to figure it out. But he looked away quickly and turned back toward the edge of the roof. He lifted his right hand and tensed it. A bluish light seemed to crackle around it, and then he slammed it down onto the edge of the roof. She was jarred as the building shook, and she was suddenly terrified that he'd overdone it and the whole roof was going to collapse._

_He reached down and scooped her back under his arm. He carried her from the edge of the roof with an unhurried step as though confident that he had the upper hand. But once they got back inside, he immediately dropped her back on her feet and they made a desperate scramble down the stairs, taking two steps at a time. They had to make it all the way down to the ground floor and then outside to reach the mineshaft entrance before anyone saw them. It seemed to her as if they were never going to reach the bottom in time. Scar must have felt the same frustration, because once they hit the top of the last flight, he turned toward her, snatched her up in his arms, and leaped over the railing, landing with a grunt on the concrete floor below._

_They rushed out through the back of the building and across a snow-covered expanse. Through the thickening snowstorm, they could make out the headframe that stood above the entrance to the mine shaft, and they ran toward it. The snow covered a number of hazards on the ground, and at one point she tripped on something and pitched to the ground. Scar scrambled back and gathered her up, slinging her over his shoulder to make the final sprint._

_They got to the shaft entrance and Scar pulled the heavy metal door open. Once inside, he set Winry back on her feet and pushed the door closed as well as he could. As he turned, he weaved and stumbled. His knees began to buckle underneath him, but Winry quickly wedged herself under his arm, taking a lot of his weight and nearly going down with him._

_"Are you all right?" she demanded. "Do you need to stop and rest? I can't carry you, you know!"_

_He shook his head slowly to clear it. It was no wonder he had nearly fainted. He had already lost blood, and with the exertion he had just been through, a weaker, less disciplined man would have been flat on the floor by now._

_"I'm fine!" he replied gruffly. "Let's keep moving!"_

_They hurried on and met up with the others. From there, they continued their long journey through the mine's tunnels. Throughout this time, the two of them had little to say to each other. All the conversation was between him, Dr. Marcoh, and Mei as they tried to analyze that little book. She just sat off to the side and watched and listened. She found herself studying him. Even in quiet moments he never seemed to relax. Only when he slept did the fierce intensity of his rugged, angular features seem to ease and except for the scar, he looked the way he must have once looked._

The hissing sound of coffee boiling over and spilling onto the top of the stove shook her from her reverie. She got up, poured herself a cup of coffee and sat grumpily back at the table, frowning out through the window. She should have felt happier. Her dear boys had come home, restored except for Ed's leg—something that would at least keep him in mind of her if it didn't keep him humble. The past two years had been a peaceful, pleasant, almost idyllic time. But finally, the boys grew into men and had gotten restless. They had things they needed to do, promises they had made to themselves and to others that they had to fulfill. And so they left. Al went first, heading east to Xing. The railroad that Brigadier General Mustang wanted to build, linking Amestris with Xing, was still in the planning stages, and anyone wanting to cross the desert safely had to use the age-old method and travel by caravan. So Al headed for Ishval, which had been established as the gateway to the east. After a few weeks they received a postcard from Al, stating simply that he would be traveling with the Chang family caravan and that he had spent some time with Doctor Marcoh, who had established a hospital in Ishval, and with Colonel Miles, commander of the garrison at Fort Ishval. He ended his note home by saying what an interesting place Ishval was, although he didn't elaborate on why.

Then Ed left. It didn't cause her much sadness; she knew it wouldn't be long before his automail started acting up out of neglect or, heaven forbid, fighting. Honestly, who was there left to fight? Then he'd be back. But even better than that, Winry cherished a thrill of excitement whenever she recalled their parting. Yes, it was a little awkward, but he had made her fall in love with him all over again.

But the fact remained that they were gone, and here she was, three months later, still sitting at her kitchen table, waiting. There were only so many pies she could bake to pass the time. Sure, she had a few orders for automail that she could be working on, and a few of her customers from Rush Valley would come down by train for maintenance or just to visit, but somehow it was beginning to pall. Life in Resembool, for all its pastoral splendor, was becoming just a little dull.

As the days wore on, she was unable to shake this feeling, and one afternoon, Pinako finally took her pipe out of her mouth and gave her granddaughter a severe but concerned look.

"What on earth is eating at you, Winry?" she demanded. "You're just not yourself today! As a matter of fact, you haven't been for a while!"

Winry had been sitting at her workbench, idly twirling a wrench in her fingers, the automail shoulder coupling sitting neglected in front of her. She set the wrench down with a sigh.

"I don't know, Grandma! I just can't seem concentrate on anything."

Pinako chuckled softly. "Well, it has been awfully quiet these past few months. It's a little hard to come down off of all that excitement and get back to business as usual, isn't it?"

Winry nodded. "I guess that's it," she replied. She got up from her stool and went over to the radio. "At least we can do something about the quiet."

She switched on the knob and gazed at the old radio while it warmed up. It finally hummed into life, just in time to pick up one of East City Radio's music programs.

"…with me, your host, Johnny Cross, that's Cross by name, not by nature! Next for your listening enjoyment, we've got some numbers from even farther east, featuring Spirit of Ishval!"

Winry gave a little gasp. "Oh, good!"

Ever since their music was first broadcast on the radio, Winry had been captivated by the exotic yet warmly inviting music that this group performed. She dearly hoped that she would be able to go to one of their concerts the next time they went on tour. Earlier this year the group's leader, Dejan Shua, had published a book telling of his life and of how he escaped from the war in Ishval with the group of young people who became his musical ensemble. It was a wonderful story, and Winry had read it several times. It made her laugh and cry and made her feel as though these people had become her friends. When she went to bed that night, she picked it up and started it all over again until she dozed off, Al's postcard tucked between the pages as a bookmark.

When she woke up the next morning, she knew exactly what she was going to do. It was rather daring, probably highly presumptuous, but she was going to do it anyway. The last time she did anything on a whim like this was when she visited Rush Valley, and that had turned out better than she expected. Besides, she ought to be able to presume upon her acquaintance with Dr. Marcoh and Colonel Miles. The excitement of planning this trip was just what she needed.

Three days later, Granny Pinako watched with puzzled concern while her granddaughter packed a suitcase.

"Are you sure this is wise?" the diminutive old woman asked. "Have you made any sort of arrangements?"

"I've seen to all my customers here, and they won't need me again for some time," Winry replied. "And I got them all to pay up, so I have plenty of cash."

"No, I meant arrangements out there in Ishval. Do you have a place to stay?"

Winry paused as she was trying to decide between a blue sweater and a pink sweater. "I'm sure I can find something," she said with a little frown. She wasn't all that sure, but she wasn't going to admit it.

Pinako gave a shrug. "Well, Winry, you're a big girl now, and you always manage to know what you're doing, so I'll leave you to it."

Winry beamed at her. "Thanks, Granny! I'll be fine! Don't worry!

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The lady who worked at the train station thought she was crazy. "First Alphonse, then Edward, now you?"

Winry scowled. "Well, why not me? Maybe I don't want to just sit around, either!"

"But…Ishval?" The woman peered at her through her glasses. "Ishval, of all places?"

"Why not?" Winry demanded, beginning to lose patience even with this nice lady. "Alphonse went there and he said it was interesting. I want to go someplace interesting. I want my own adventure! It's been two years since they started fixing it up. They've got to have some sort of inn or something. People do go there, after all!"

"Well…yes…" the woman conceded, "But they're not tourists. They're always soldiers or people who are going out there to do work."

"Fine, then!" Winry replied loftily. "If they need me to help out with anything, I'd be happy to, so I could say I'm going out there for humanitarian purposes!"

The station attendant chuckled and handed Winry her ticket. "I'm sure they'll love you out there, Miss Winry."

When she stepped onto the passenger car, Winry hesitated. The car was only half full, and all the other passengers were in blue uniforms. All conversations stopped and they stared back curiously at her. She stood at the head of the aisle, feeling increasingly awkward and holding a large suitcase in one hand and a large basket in the other.

"Uh…Miss…" one of the soldiers finally said, speaking politely. "Are you sure you're on the right train? We're heading out to Ishval."

Winry drew herself up. "So am I," she declared. "I'm…visiting a friend there."

The soldiers perked up with interest. "You got a sweetheart stationed out there?" one of them asked.

Another soldier with sandy blond hair grinned mischievously. "If you don't, I'm available!"

Winry blushed fiercely, and not entirely with pleasure. "I'm engaged, thank you very much."

"Is that why you're running away?" Sandy Blond asked, gesturing to her suitcase, and several of his comrades burst out with laughter.

Winry was about to fire back an angry retort when she heard the clomping of boots behind her.

"Belt up, all of you!" a voice growled, and Winry felt a hand drop on her shoulder and she turned around with a start to see another soldier standing behind her. He grinned at her. "Well, as I live and breathe, it's Miss Winry!"

Winry's eyes widened with recognition. "Benji?"

The soldier tapped his epaulettes. "Sergeant Major Augustus Benjamin, at your service, Miss." Benjamin jerked his head toward the other soldiers. "Don't mind them," he said. "They may have brains made of oatmeal, but they've got hearts of gold. Let me get those for you." He took her suitcase and put it up on the luggage rack, followed by her basket.

"Thank you," Winry said, sitting down in the seat underneath where her bag sat on the rack. "I didn't know you were back in Resembool."

Benjamin shrugged. "I was only out for a couple of days. I didn't really have time to make the rounds. So," he said with a grin. "You look good! And did I hear correctly? You're engaged?"

Winry smiled and nodded. "That's right! Ed proposed just before he left." She assumed that's what he had done. Anyway, that was her story and she was sticking to it.

"Have you got a date set?"

"No," Winry said with a sigh. "It was kind of…spontaneous. We haven't really made any plans yet."

"Well, don't let him drag his feet too long," Benjamin said. "I can personally recommend being married. I got hitched just a little over a year ago."

Winry perked up in surprise. "Did you really? Anybody I know?"

"I doubt it," Benjamin replied. "I married an Ishvalan girl." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. Opening it up, he took out a small photograph and handed it to Winry. It showed him with his arms around a very attractive young Ishvalan woman, and they were both smiling happily at the camera.

"She's lovely, Benji!" Winry said. "I'm surprised you left."

"Well, I had to go see my folks, and Sima would've come with me, but she's gonna have a baby, so she's not feeling so good right now," Benjamin said with a sympathetic grimace.

"That's wonderful!" Winry exclaimed. "I mean—about the baby! Not about her not feeling well!"

Benjamin waved his hand with a grin. "I figured." He leaned on the back of the seat across from her. "So what made you want to travel to God's Own Country?"

Winry gave him a curious look. "What?"

Benjamin chuckled. "It's half a joke, half respect," he explained. "The people out there are pretty religious, you know? It's kind of what sets the rhythm of life there, even at the fort sometimes. Oh!" Benji had a sudden thought. "I bet you're coming out to see your folks' memorial."

Now it was Winry's turn to look startled. "What?"

"You didn't know? Well, I guess it didn't make the front page or anything. I'm surprised nobody let you know. It was Dr. Marcoh's idea."

"Was it really?" Winry exclaimed. "How kind of him!"

Benjamin nodded. "Yeah. Him and the _khorovar_."

Winry looked blank. "The what?"

"His Honor the Provincial Governor of Ishval. _Khorovar_ is the local name. He's the one who actually…" Benjamin thought for a moment, as though trying to retrieve the right words. "…put it up," he concluded.

"Oh. Well, that was nice of him," Winry remarked, somewhat mystified.

"Yeah, he's okay," Benjamin said with a slight smile, then said, "Dr. Marcoh talked about you. He had some awfully nice things to say."

Winry smiled. "Well, I think he's a wonderful person!"

"Oh, he's a real good egg," Benjamin agreed. "Everybody thinks the world of him."

"I also know Colonel Miles," Winry went on, encouraged to do a bit more name dropping.

Benjamin's eyebrows flew up. "Do you now?"

"Well, we travelled on the train together once," Winry added. "I don't know him as well as Dr. Marcoh."

"Oh, he's the best! I still can't believe we got Briggs to let go of him! He terrifies the men and they love it!" Benjamin leaned in a little closer. "I'm his adjutant, you know."

"That's great, Benji!"

"Yeah," Benjamin said with a nod. "I gotta say, Ishval's been pretty good to me."

The train whistle let out a piercing shriek and the engine gave a slight lurch forward. Benjamin steadied himself against the back of the seat.

"Well, I'm gonna get back to my men and make sure they behave themselves. Great to see you again, Miss Winry. When we get into Ishval, I'll make sure you get a ride in."

"Thanks, Benji," Winry said. "It's been nice talking to you."

Benjamin gave her a wave and returned to his comrades as the train pulled out of the station. Winry sat back, feeling excited. This was what adventures were made of!

Around late morning, the train pulled into Ishval Station. As the soldiers gathered up their belongings and crowded into the aisle, Winry peered with curiosity out of the window. The station itself was a rectangular whitewashed building with a flat roof and small windows. There were young trees planted around the station, and a sort of vine was growing on one side, spreading out thickly and clinging directly to the wall. On a large sign board next to the station building was painted the words _Welcome to Ishval_. Just below that were the words _Doishteve na Ishval_ , and underneath that was the same phrase in Ishvalan script, as far as Winry could tell. Everything from the building to the plants to the platform to the sign looked new.

Benjamin showed up in time to pull her suitcase and basket down for her, and he carried the suitcase off the train. As she stepped onto the wooden platform, Benjamin pointed past the station building to a row of canvas-covered military trucks.

"One of those will take us back," he said. "The others are for supplies."

Winry nodded and followed the other soldiers to one of the trucks, a personnel transport vehicle. They started climbing up into the back, and Winry handed her suitcase up to Benjamin.

"Who's this?"

Winry gave a little start and turned around. Another soldier stood behind her with his fists on his hips, regarding her curiously.

"This, Corporal," Benjamin told him, "is Miss Winry Rockbell, personal friend of Dr. Marcoh and the colonel."

The corporal looked up at Benjamin, impressed. "Ya don't say!" He looked back down at Winry. "'Scuse me for startling you, Miss," he said. "It's just that we don't get too many actual visitors here. Ishval's still kind of a work in progress, and we're a little leery about folks who just wanna come out and poke around. They tend to kind of get in the way."

"Oh." Winry felt slightly uncomfortable. That was more or less why she had come.

"Don't give her a hard time, Corp'!" Benjamin argued.

"Yessir, Sergeant Major!" the corporal replied with a salute. He smiled at Winry. "Enjoy your stay, Miss Rockbell."

They helped her get up into the transport truck and she took a seat along with the soldiers. As they drove back, the soldiers continued to trade stories about what they'd done on leave and they talked eagerly about returning. It seemed clear to Winry that they had become very fond of Ishval, and she was looking forward even more to seeing it for herself.

The truck drove on for a while longer, and Winry peered out the back of it curiously. They rumbled past houses that looked a lot like the building at the station, as well as quite a number of people. Winry had spent some time in a community of Ishvalans, the village of Asbek, but then they had been all bundled up against the cold. Here the weather was mild, and the pace of life seemed more leisurely. A couple of soldiers leaned forward to wave at some of the people they drove by, and the Ishvalans waved back.

A few minutes later, the truck slowed and Winry realized they had just driven through an entrance between two thick walls where a couple of soldiers were standing with rifles resting against their shoulders. The truck continued on for awhile longer, passing by orderly rows of buildings, then came to a stop. The soldiers got to their feet, gathered up their belongings, and started jumping down from the back of the truck. Benjamin helped Winry hop down, then he handed down her suitcase and basket before jumping down himself.

"We have to report in," he told her, "and then I'll take you to see Dr. Marcoh, if you like." Benjamin pointed to a covered walkway that ran across the front of the closest building. "That's HQ. Wait in the shade there and I'll be out in just a bit."

Winry nodded and headed for the building. As she was about to step onto the boards of the walkway, a tall man in uniform stepped out of a door a few feet away. The soldiers that were gathered outside all snapped rigidly to attention, and Winry looked up and let out a little cry of surprise.

In mid-salute, Colonel Miles turned to her and gave a start. He took off his dark glasses and stared at her. "Miss Rockbell?"

Winry hunched up her shoulders and gave him a smile that was half embarrassed, half delighted. "Surprise!" she said in small, squealy voice.

A smile spread across Miles' face and he stepped toward her, holding out his hand. "I'll say I'm surprised!"

Winry promptly dropped her suitcase and basket and threw her arms around him, much to the amusement of his men.

"As you were!" he growled at them while he recovered from, then returned Winry's hug. He looked down at her, still somewhat amazed. "Don't get me wrong. It's good to see you. I just didn't expect you to come here."

"Yes, I know. It's not like I called ahead or anything." Winry looked up with a slightly worried pucker in her eyebrows. "I hope that's okay."

Miles looked down into her face with a slightly amused but kind expression. "Of course it is!" he replied firmly. "You probably already know that Alphonse came this way a few months ago."

"Yes, he sent us a postcard," Winry said. "Which seemed a little cheap considering the adventure he was going on. And then Ed left just a few weeks after that."

"Ah, I see!" Miles said with a knowing smile. "That explains it!"

Winry frowned. "It does?"

"You got left behind and you got restless, didn't you?"

Winry gave a little sigh of relief. "That's exactly it!"

Miles laughed quietly. "Well, I can't blame you for that."

"Begging your pardon, Colonel!" Benjamin stepped up and saluted. "I told Miss Rockbell I would take her over to see Dr. Marcoh."

"That won't be necessary, Sergeant Major," Miles replied. "I'm driving there myself, so I'll be her escort. Store her luggage until we arrange accommodations for her and then get everybody checked in. I'll send the car back so you can get into town. Sima's been blaming you for making her feel like crap."

Benjamin chuckled. "Nothin' a back rub and a box of fresh pulled taffy from Resembool won't cure!"

"Tch!" Miles remarked skeptically. "Yeah, good luck with that." He turned to Winry with a slight bow and swept out his hand. "After you, Miss Rockbell."

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The driver dropped them off in what the colonel referred to as an access road. They were roughly in the center of Ishval, between the districts of Wahir and Lejia. Miles sent the car back to the fort, and they took a small flight of steps up to an outdoor marketplace. The colonel explained that cars weren't necessarily the best way to get around, particularly if you really wanted to see Ishval. 

Winry had paused by the open door of a small shop to watch an older woman expertly pass a shuttle through the warp threads of a loom, and she turned to the Ishvalan officer. "So what is the best way to get around?"

Miles grinned. "I'll show you." He looked up and down the street, then gave a loud, sharp whistle. 

Before Winry could ask him to elaborate, a couple of teenage Ishvalan boys came running up, seemingly out of nowhere, each gripping the shafts of what looked like two-wheeled pony carts. They both came to a halt a few feet from each other.

"I was here first, Yoru!" one boy declared hotly.

"My auntie's goat, you were!" the other boy retorted. "You snatched one of my fares once already today, you little turd! Besides, you're part of the Kanda pullers, so why are you even here?"

"Calm down, boys!" Miles ordered sternly. "We happen to be heading into Kanda, Atash. Yoru, why don't you go wait by the Wahir access road? Sergeant Major Benjamin's on his way back and he'll be wanting to go see his wife."

The first boy, Atash, perked up. "I'll be happy to pull the sergeant major!"

"You got goat shit in your ears?" Yoru snapped. "The colonel told me to fetch him!"

Atash was about to fire back with a fitting reply, when Miles held up his hand. "I said calm down! If you keep up this bickering, I'll have to speak to the chieftain of Kanda."

Rather than looking chastened, both boys grinned. " _Zhaarad_ Stanno's making too much money off of us," Atash said.

"He doesn't mind a bit of friendly competition," Yoru added.

"Then I might have to take it up with the _khorovar_ ," Miles went on. "And he just might take issue with Stanno passing on his lack of business ethics to you boys."

This only caused the boys further glee. "I'd love to see those two go at it!" Atash chuckled.

Miles let out a huff of exasperation and pointed down the street. "Yoru! Move your ass and go wait for the sergeant major!"

Still grinning, Yoru trotted away with his cart. Atash smiled cheerfully at Winry and the colonel. "Kanda, was it?"

"That's right," Miles said, stepping up to the cart and holding out his hand to Winry, helping her up onto the bench seat. "We're going to the hospital."

Atash drew in a sharp breath. "Is it an emergency?"

"No, it's not an emergency," Miles replied, taking his own seat beside Winry. "And I don't need you to set any personal records for speed. And try not to run over anybody's chickens this time."

" _Eh-h_! That was an accident, Colonel!" Atash gripped the shafts of his cart tightly and set off at a steady lope.

"This is something we're experimenting with," Miles explained to Winry. "A couple of our boys got the idea from one of the caravans from Xing. The chieftain of Kanda, who is a carpenter by trade—"

"A _master_ carpenter!" Atash corrected him.

"How could I forget? Anyway, he took the idea a step further. He built a small fleet of these rickshaws and hired any able-bodied young fellow who wasn't already apprenticed to pull them. It's definitely become a lucrative business, although some consider it a little demeaning."

"Not us!" Atash put in.

Miles pitched his voice lower and slightly gravelly. "Humans are not beasts of burden!" He and Atash both laughed.

"I've pulled the _khorovar_ myself a few times," Atash said. "And then he lectures me about not learning a proper trade. It's like being back in his class." Then he gave another laugh. "But he's a big tipper!"

"He just feels sorry for you."

"He didn't feel sorry for me when I was in school."

"That's because you were a brat. You still are."

Atash just laughed as he turned a corner.

Winry was amazed that he didn't even seem winded. "Isn't this heavy to pull?" she asked.

"No, _Zhaarana_ , not at all!" Atash replied. " _Zhaarad_ Stanno knows his craft, and these things have great balance!"

"Don't worry about Atash, Miss Winry," Miles said. "Believe me, if this was actually hard work, he wouldn't be doing it."

Winry sat back in her seat, still feeling a little odd but taking the colonel and Atash at their word. "So who is this person, the _khorovar_? He's actually the provincial governor?"

"Ah, yes," Miles said. "The _khorovar_. It's a bit grander than the title of governor as far as the Ishvalans are concerned, but it suits the purpose." He smiled, almost more to himself. "An interesting gentleman."

Winry looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "All Benji said was that he was 'okay'."

"He is," Miles replied. "A decent fellow. Married. Three kids. Gorgeous wife." He grinned. "I married his cousin, who is also gorgeous, by the way."

Winry gave a little cry of surprise and smacked him on the arm. "You got married and you didn't tell me?"

Miles bowed his head slightly. "My apologies! You'll get to meet her when we reach the hospital. She's due in about two months, and she went in for a check-up today."

"Now you're having a baby?" Winry threw her hands in the air. "How many more surprises have you got for me, Colonel?"

Miles gave a quiet laugh. "Ishval is full of surprises, Miss Winry."


	2. Chapter 2

The hospital was a large, rectangular, single-story building, whitewashed to reflect heat. Bougainvilleas thick with brilliant dark pink bracts grew on trellises along the wall facing the street, and a curved gravel path lined with rocks led up to the arched entrance.

"Thanks, Atash," Miles said as the boy halted and lowered the shafts to rest on the ground.

"You want me to hang around for the trip back, Colonel?" Atash went over to help Winry step down.

"If you would. Go in and get some water and take a breather," Miles told him. "We'll be a few minutes here."

Miles escorted Winry through the arched entry and into an open area landscaped simply with potted plants, mounds of brightly flowering lantana, some benches, and a few shade trees. In the center of this garden stood a tall stone statue. Winry stepped up to it and leaned back a little to gaze at it. It was a graceful, very simple representation of two people, their arms joined as if moving into an embrace and their heads bent close to each other. Despite its minimalist design, there was a pleasant serenity to the statue, a feeling of comfort. A ceramic plaque was set into the front of the stone base that the statue stood on, and Winry crouched down to read what it said. As did pretty much every sign she'd seen here so far, there were three groups of text: One in Ishvalan script, one with the Ishvalan transliterated into Amestrian characters, and one in Amestrian. As she read it, she felt her eyes sting with tears.

_**Those who follow the call of their hearts will not be led astray** _

"It's an old Ishvalan saying," she heard Miles say from behind her.

Winry's eyes traveled back up the statue. "This must be the memorial for my parents!" she breathed in wonder.

"It is," she heard a familiar voice reply. "I'm so glad you came to see it!"

Winry spun around to see the wizened features of Dr. Marcoh crease into a smile as he approached her. She gave a cry of delight and ran up to him, throwing her arms around him. "It's so good to see you!"

Dr. Marcoh patted her back affectionately. "You, too, my dear girl! I've been wanting to invite you here, but here you are already!" He stepped back and held Winry at arm's length. "Look at you! You're so grown up now! Is Edward with you? Alphonse has been and gone, and he looked amazing! Such a handsome young man! Mei will be beside herself!" He stopped and gave a little embarrassed laugh. "Listen to me babbling! Forgive me!"

Winry giggled and hugged him again. "You can babble all you want, Dr. Marcoh! I'm so happy to see you again!"

"You dear, dear girl!" Marcoh chuckled, then exclaimed, "Oh! Where are my manners!" He stepped aside and Winry now noticed the pregnant Ishvalan woman standing next to Miles, his arm around her shoulders. "Or perhaps I should say, Colonel, where are your manners?"

Miles smiled and turned to Winry. "Miss Rockbell, this is my wife, Vesya. Vesya, this is Miss Winry Rockbell."

Winry grinned excitedly and thrust her hand out. "I'm so pleased to meet you, Mrs. Miles!"

Vesya took Winry's hand in both of hers. "I'm honored to meet you, Miss Rockbell!" she said warmly.

Winry shrugged. "Oh, you don't have to be formal! Winry's just fine!"

Vesya gave a little giggle and glanced up at Miles, who gave her a wink. "All right! Winry it is, then!"

"So how's the prognosis?" Miles asked, giving his wife's shoulders an affectionate squeeze.

"Everything's fine!" Vesya replied, laying her hands on her belly. "The baby's growing and so am I!"

"Yes, you're both progressing well," Dr. Marcoh added. "I'll expect you next month for your next visit."

"Sima's coming in to see you later, isn't she?" Vesya asked with a knowing smile. "Better brace yourself, Dr. Marcoh!"

"It's all right," Miles said. "Benji's back from Resembool, armed with a bag of taffy."

Vesya rolled her eyes. "It'll take more than that to calm Sima down. She doesn't seem to realize that you're supposed feel sick. Poor Benji!"

"Well, pregnancy affects women differently," Marcoh said patiently. "Once I convince Sima that she's not dying, she'll be all right." He raised his hands. "But I shouldn't violate my doctor's oath by gossiping."

Vesya laughed. "Don't worry! We'll do all the gossiping for you!" She gave a nod toward the statue. "Do you like it?" she asked Winry.

"It's beautiful!" Winry turned back to gaze at the graceful figure. "I'm so glad I was able to see this!"

"My cousin made the statue, and my brother and I made the plaque," Vesya explained.

"Really? Is your cousin a sculptor when he's not being the governor?"

"Well, no, not exactly," Vesya replied, considering the statue with a smile. "But I think he did a good job."

"I'll say." Winry shook her head in wonder. "I'm just kind of amazed that he'd go to the trouble."

Dr. Marcoh stepped up beside Winry. "Our _khorovar_ is a man of great heart and formidable talent," he remarked.

Winry gazed at the sculpture.

_It was Mom's birthday. They had just finished the wonderful dinner that Grandma had made, and she was helping to clean up the kitchen. From the living room came the sound of music from the radio, and she peered through the kitchen door. Grinning, she watched her parents slow dancing, their heads touching, gazing into each other's eyes._

"I think I'd like to meet this gentleman."

Miles made a comment, speaking in Ishvalan, and Dr. Marcoh looked back at him for a moment, then replied quietly in the same language. They continued to converse briefly, and Winry got the distinct impression that they were trying to come to a decision or an agreement over something. Finally, Miles nodded and turned to Winry with a smile.

"I think that could be arranged, Miss Rockbell."

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The administrative center of Ishval was not a particularly large building, and it was dwarfed by the Great Temple, which took up most of the area. The district of Gunja lay at the center of Ishval, Miles explained, the province's heart and mind. Within its boundaries were not only the temple complex and the offices of the civil government, but also the school. It wasn't too far from the hospital, which lay near the northern edge of Kanda, so Miles and Winry walked there, letting Vesya take the rickshaw home.

The temple still had scaffolding around much of it, but it was already an impressive structure. The front doors stood open, and from the street Winry could see some of the intricate carving in the dark wood. She went up the steps to take a closer look and Miles followed her.

"This is beautiful!" she exclaimed, running her fingers over the rich, intertwining patterns.

"You won't find work like that anywhere else in Amestris."

Winry looked at Miles, but he wasn't the one who had spoken, and he was looking past her. She turned toward the interior of the temple to see an Ishvalan man standing in the doorway. He had a handsome face, but a somewhat jaded, cynical expression. The man greeted Miles with a curt jerk of his chin.

"Miles."

"Stanno. Laying your sins at the altar?" Miles asked pointedly.

The man gave a smirk. "Some other time." With a slight tilt of his head in Winry's direction, he said. "So, introduce me."

In a less than enthusiastic tone, Miles said, "Miss Rockbell, this is Stanno Dreva, chieftain of Kanda. Stanno, this is Miss Winry Rockbell."

The man grinned. "See? That didn't hurt." He turned back to Winry, his eyes giving her a subtle once-over. "Rockbell, eh? Like the…" He jerked his thumb in the general direction of the hospital.

"The very same," Miles replied.

"Nice to meet you," Winry said, although she wasn't quite sure just how nice it was.

"Likewise, Miss Rockbell." Stanno gave her a startlingly brilliant smile. "Doishteve!" He tapped his knuckles against the surface of the door. "One of my better pieces," he said. "So glad you like it."

"Oh…uh…yes, it's lovely."

"I even did it for free."

"Oh…that's…"

"Atash is horning in on Yoru's turf again," Miles cut in. "Would you speak to him, please?"

Stanno shrugged. "What for? I like the kid's initiative." His grin grew again. "Survival of the fittest, isn't that the Briggs motto?"

"Just tell your pullers to keep it fair or I'll go over your head," Miles warned. "We're going to the khorovar's office right now, as a matter of fact."

"Are you?" Stanno gave Winry's shoulder a companionable nudge as he stepped past her. "You lucky girl!" He laughed and continued down the steps, waving over his shoulder. "Tell him whatever you like, Miles! The 'shaws are here to stay!"

Miles shook his head and muttered something in Ishvalan. He gave Stanno a head start, then he turned to Winry, his smile returning. "This way, Miss Winry."

Winry followed Miles back down the steps of the temple and across the street. The building they approached was similar to the hospital, only smaller. To one side of the arched entryway, a brass plaque was set into the wall.

_**Offices of the Provincial Governor of Ishval** _

_**This Building Dedicated on** _

_**May 15, 1917** _

_**By Fuhrer Montgomery Grumman** _

_**and** _

_**Khorovar Andakar Ruhad** _

"That was a big day," Miles remarked.

"It must have been," Winry agreed.

The entryway led into a small enclosed garden, which had a fountain standing in the center. Miles followed a flagstone path that lead across the courtyard to an open door on the other side. He tapped on the door frame and stepped inside, entering a small office with a desk at one end. There was another door set into the facing wall, and it was flanked by a row of filing cabinets and bookshelves.

A young man in his early twenties turned around from where he stood at the open drawer of one of the filing cabinets, and he gave a slight bow of his head. "Colonel Miles! How are you—" He paused as Winry stepped out from behind Miles and smiled at him. "Oh!" The young man gave a slightly deeper bow. " _Doishteve_."

Winry gave a little wave. "Hi!"

"Is he in yet, Stoyan?" Miles asked.

The young man continued to gaze at Winry for a moment, then shook himself slightly and glanced at a clock on the wall. "He should be here any minute. The morning classes are over."

Miles turned to Winry. "The _khorovar_ doubles as the school's headmaster as well as one of the teachers," he explained. "He would only take on this job if he could keep the other one."

" _Zhaarad_ Andakar is a man of great dedication," Stoyan added solemnly.

" _Zhaarad_ Andakar is a man who doesn't know how to delegate," Miles replied. "Stoyan, this is Miss Winry Rockbell. Miss Rockbell, this is the _khorovar's_ secretary, Stoyan Dimitar."

Winry drew in a sudden, ecstatic gasp, startling the two men. "Is he really?" She gazed at Stoyan. "Are you really? You're with Spirit of Ishval! You play the flute! Oh, I've heard you on the radio and I've wanted to go to one of your concerts for—gosh!—forever!" She gave a little squeal, pressing her hands against her cheeks. "Oh, I think you're wonderful!"

Recovering from his initial surprise, Stoyan's tawny features colored and he looked down. "You're very kind, _Zhaarana_."

"Dejan praises you up and down," Miles said with a grin. "But you never blush like that!"

Stoyan frowned slightly, his face growing slightly redder, then he looked up toward the door. "Ah, here he comes!"

They could hear the tread of feet on the flagstones outside. A tall, broad-shouldered man, his hair cut close to his scalp on the sides, leaving a thatch of silver on top and a short ponytail down the back, stepped into the office. He carried a stack of thin booklets under his arm, and he had another open in his hand that he was reading. He frowned as he did so, his brows puckering at the center of a large scar that spread from his forehead to his cheekbones.

Winry's heart slammed against the inside of her chest as she stared at him. He had changed and yet was unmistakably the same. He still had a presence that filled the room and washed over her like waves of heat.

_He turned slowly to look down at her as she knelt on the broken pavement. The killer of her parents suddenly had a face. All this time she had only been able to picture nameless, featureless figures during those rare, angry moments when she even wanted to picture anyone._

He glanced up from the book in his hand and acknowledged Miles, and in nearly the same glance, his eyes fell on Winry and he grew utterly still.

Miles cleared his throat quietly. "Miss Rockbell, may I present Andakar, son of Turyan, of the house of Ruhad. Stoyan, come walk outside with me."

The young man stood looking from Winry to the _khorovar_ with puzzled concern. " _Zhaarad_ —"

"Stoyan!" Miles hissed in a whisper, jerking his head toward the door. The young man reluctantly followed him outside, looking back over his shoulder. Miles gripped him by the elbow and pulled him along the flagstone path and past the fountain.

"Colonel! What's going on?" Stoyan demanded in a low, urgent voice. "Is something wrong?"

Miles looked back toward the office door, which was now closed. "No, I shouldn't think so."

"But…why…"

"It's all right," Miles assured him.

"But that girl!" Stoyan struggled with his confusion. "What is she—"

"They're old friends," Miles explained. "Of a sort. They were just surprised to see each other." He smiled. "Very surprised."

Stoyan grudgingly accepted Miles' words with a nod. He looked back across the courtyard. "That girl," he said. "Miss Rockbell. Is she…" He paused for a long moment. "Is she promised to anyone?"

Miles stared at him then rolled his eyes . "You've got girls practically swooning every time you walk down the street, and the first one you ever notice is Amestrian!"

Stoyan frowned stubbornly. "Is she promised to anyone?"

"I'm pretty sure she is, yes," Miles replied. "I know the young man in question, and I think it's a pretty safe bet."

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"You look well," Scar observed. He turned away to set the booklets on his desk.

Winry gave a little jump, startled at the sound of his voice addressing her. "Uh…thanks." The idea of him having martyred himself for the cause had been a much more comfortable one to live with, but she couldn't help but wonder, sometimes, _what if?_ Now that _what if_ was standing right in front of her and she wasn't ready for it. "You, too," she added, because, frankly, it was true.

"Considering you must have thought I was dead?"

"Well…yeah…"

There were several moments of painfully awkward silence while Winry stared at the man's broad back. He turned back to her and she forced herself to look at his face. He still towered over her. His gaze, something she always remembered as being so angry and intense, was now thoughtful. No...polite. Deferential, almost. It was disorienting. There was no feeling of menace or danger to brace herself against. This was a different person. Despite appearances, this just wasn't Scar. Winry felt herself weave slightly, and she felt a hand gently grip her elbow.

"Sit down." The hand carefully guided her to a wooden bench against the wall and helped steady her as she dropped down on it.

 _Don't stand over me!_ Winry thought in a moment of panic. _Who are you and what have you done with Scar?_

Scar stepped back, clasping his hands behind his back. "I didn't plan this," he said. "I hope you believe that."

Winry felt herself pulled back to reality. "No…I…I realize that." She glanced up at him, her eyes flicking up to the scar that she almost thought might not be there. No, there it was, plain as day, just like the pretty solid man who bore the scar. Her odd feeling faded away. "I didn't plan this either. I mean—" she added quickly. "I mean—I _did_ —sort of. Just not this part. I just—wanted to go somewhere on my own. I didn't know you were even alive! Honestly, I didn't!"

"Very few people outside of Ishval know that." He regarded her for a moment. "Are you disappointed?"

_He didn't even say good-bye. That bothered her more than it should have. At least Dr. Marcoh turned and waved with a brave smile. Despite the fact that she was still in the company of Alphonse, two powerful chimeras, and Mr. Yoki (for whatever that was worth), she had an oddly uneasy feeling as she watched that broad back disappear into the snow-covered distance. Even odder was the fact that she couldn't decide whether her unease was for herself or for him._

"I…uh…no," she replied awkwardly. "I'm just surprised." She frowned. Was she surprised or relieved? Truth to tell, she felt just a little cheated. "But I don't understand why Alphonse didn't say anything about you. Did he just not see you?"

"No, he did," Scar replied. "We talked for a while. I asked him not to tell you or Edward about me. I didn't think it was necessary."

"You didn't—" Winry scowled angrily. "Well, maybe it mattered to m- -to _us_ to know!"

"That's what Alphonse seemed to think. I would have thought I was a part of your life that you would want to forget."

"You don't know that!" Winry flung out her arm, pointing toward the door. " _You_ sure didn't forget! You put up a statue for my parents, for cryin' out loud! Didn't you think I would want to see it? You could have let me know!"

Scar was silent for a moment. Then he said quietly, "I suppose I wasn't ready." He gave a slight bow of his head. "That was selfish of me. I apologize."

Winry's mouth opened, then she closed it. She rubbed her arm self-consciously. "Um...okay," she said finally. Tears sprang unaccountably to her eyes. "The statue's really nice!" she muttered. "Thank you."

"I'm glad you like it."

Winry sniffed and quickly wiped the corner of one of her eyes with the back of her hand. "I met your cousin at the hospital. She's really pretty."

"I can't take credit for that."

A smile tugged at Winry's lips. "She said you made the statue."

Scar gave a small, dismissive movement of his shoulders. "If you look closely, you'll see transmutation marks."

Winry looked startled. "Seriously? But I thought…"

"I didn't want to let my brother's legacy go entirely to waste," Scar explained. "I keep to very strict limitations on how I use his alchemy."

"Oh." Winry fell silent for a moment. Outside there came the staccato squawking of a bird.

_The wood was a little damp, but it would have to do. They were able to find dry pine cones underneath a blanket of needles. She had found a real trove of them and gathered up as many in her arms as she could hold. The night before, they had heard the sound of army transport vehicles on the nearby highway, and Scar urged them deeper into the thick forest and wouldn't let them light a fire. The next morning, the chirping of a bird woke her, and she opened her eyes to see that he had draped his coat over her._

"Do you have a place to stay?"

Winry looked up with a start. "Uh…no…I…I don't." She felt a little embarrassed. "I didn't really plan that far ahead," she mumbled.

"Then you'll stay with me," Scar replied decisively. "That is…" he added, this time a little hesitantly, "if you would care to. I have an extra room, and I would be honored."

Winry glanced up at him with an uncertain look. That might be just a little too weird. "I…wouldn't want to impose."

"Miss Rockbell, it's the least I could do, and I'd like you to meet my family."

"Your—" Winry gave a sudden start and she pointed at him, wide-eyed. " _You're_ the governor of Ishval!"

Scar gave her a slightly puzzled look. "I thought that had been established."

"No, it wasn't!" Winry replied irritably. "Everybody's been going on and on about the _khorovar_ this and the _khorovar_ that but nobody ever said, oh, you remember Scar? He's the governor of Ishval!" She scowled. "I think it was a dirty trick and Dr. Marcoh and Colonel Miles planned it as soon as they saw me."

Scar looked away slightly, but Winry could see the hint of a smile he was trying to hide. "Possibly."

"Well, they did!" Winry's frown was tempered slightly by a look of wonder. "You're married?"

"By the mercy of Ishvala."

"And you have kids?"

"I have been blessed, yes."

She gave him a grudging look of admiration. "You've been busy."

Scar lifted his shoulders slightly in a somewhat resigned gesture. "You have no idea. But as I said, I would be honored if you would accept my hospitality."

Winry stood up. "You're sure that would be all right? What will your wife say if you bring a strange girl home?"

"She knows who you are," Scar replied.

"She does?" Winry asked cautiously. "You told her?"

"I told her everything about me, Miss Rockbell, in as merciless a light as I could. She still married me."

Winry deliberated silently for a few moments. If nothing else, she was compelled by sheer curiosity to observe the private life of this man who had gone from being a cold-blooded killer and a fugitive to being a man of means and importance with a wife and kids and a house with a spare room. She had to see this for herself because she simply wouldn't believe it otherwise.

Outside, Stoyan was leaning against the fountain with his arms folded and a frown on his face. As soon as he saw them emerge from the office, he headed toward them.

" _Zhaarad_ Andakar," he began, looking from one to the other a little anxiously. "Is everything all right? Is there anything I can do?"

"I'm leaving for the day, Stoyan," Scar replied, adding with a slight nod toward Winry, "As you can see, I have a visitor. There's nothing pressing, but if anything urgent comes up I'll be at home."

Stoyan looked surprised. "Yes, _Zhaarad_."

As an afterthought, Scar added, almost hesitantly, "Those copy books I brought in. Would you take a look at them for me? They're just the fourth year Ishvalan grammar exercises. As soon as you're finished with that, go ahead and lock up."

"Oh." Stoyan recovered from surprise once again. "Of course." He paused for a moment, then asked, "Would you like me to call one of the pullers?"

Scar shook his head. "No, I'm sure to trip over one as soon as I leave. Oh…" He turned to Winry. "Did you have any luggage?"

"Yes, it's at the fort."

Scar looked back at Stoyan. "Ask one of the boys to get Miss Rockbell's things."

"I will, _Zhaarad_."

"Thank you. I'll see you later, Stoyan."

Stoyan nodded, then he turned to Winry with a little bow and the hint of a shy smile. "I hope you enjoy your stay, Miss Rockbell."

"Thank you, Stoyan," Winry replied. "I think I will."

As Scar led the way out through the entry way and onto the road, Winry asked, "Are you ditching work just for me?"

"I'm not ditching work," Scar replied. "I'm fulfilling an obligation. For one thing, you're an unaccompanied young girl, and you need looking after."

Winry frowned up at him. "I don't need looking after. I'm not helpless, you know. I can take care of myself."

"I don't doubt that, Miss Rockbell," Scar said. He turned to regard her solemnly. "But I'm the reason you've had to learn to take care of yourself. That's where the obligation truly lies. That being the case, I would be seriously neglecting my duty. At the moment, though," he went on, considering the street before them, "if I'm bringing a guest home, I should stop by the marketplace."

"Sure, that's fine," Winry replied. She found herself envying Scar for the apparent ease with which he had accepted this situation. In the space of maybe fifteen minutes, he had spoken to her more than he ever had during the weeks their little band of fugitives had traveled across Northern Amestris together. Then again, although this man was obviously Scar, he wasn't quite. He had become someone else. A puzzle that needed unraveling.

All over again.


	3. Chapter 3

Yet another eager young man trotted up, pulling a rickshaw. " _Zhaarad Khorovar_!"he called out. "Where can I take you?"

Scar glanced at Winry. "The Kanda marketplace, Salar," he said. "Normally, I would walk- -"

Salar nodded with an indulgent smile. "Of course, you would, _Zhaarad_. But today you have a guest!" He bowed toward Winry. " _Doishteve, Zhaarana_!"

"Thanks!" Winry replied, glad to see a decidedly not dour face.

Scar held his hand out toward the rickshaw and Winry climbed in. He climbed in after her and Salar set off. "You know, _Zhaarad_ ," the young man called over his shoulder, "Ishval's growing like cat'sclaw on a wall. Pretty soon it's going to be too big to walk anywhere."

"I'll deal with that in Ishvala's good time."

Salar laughed and broke into a lope.

They headed in a southerly direction. Scar explained that Ishval was laid out in a wheel-and-spoke design, with Gunja at its center. At one point, he informed her that they had just crossed into the district of Kanda, where he lived. As in the rest Ishval, or at least what Winry had seen so far, the buildings all looked new. There were quite a few, like the Great Temple, that still had some scaffolding around them. Here and there were several mature trees, their drooping branches with long feathery leaves casting wide shadows. Scar told her that whenever possible, existing plants were left where they were, and houses were built around them.

She nodded politely as he pointed out a certain building or street or a landmark, and at first she thought that he was just making small talk because he felt awkward. But then she could hear the pride in his voice, even though she had to listen carefully to catch it. He had never been particularly effusive.

_He always walked out in front, and they generally followed his lead. He was the expert at living rough and being hunted, after all. He maintained a strict economy of speech as well, even when discussing his brother's notes. What else, after all, did he have to say to them?_

They turned a corner onto a wide street with a bustling crowd. "Stop here, Salar," Scar told the puller. "Meet us at the far end, if you would."

"So I will!" Salar stopped the rickshaw and they stepped out of it. Then the young man trotted away.

Winry turned in a slow circle, her face breaking into a smile at the sights before her. Colorful awnings stretched over tables of fruits, vegetables, nuts, cloth, leather goods, bunches of dried herbs, piles of earthy colored spices, flowers, and even cooked food. Scar waited for her, letting her take her time to drink in all the sights. At one point she stopped and inhaled deeply.

"What's that smell?" she asked eagerly. "It's like cinnamon and…and I'm not sure what else."

Scar nodded his head toward one of the stalls. Underneath the awning an older man was toasting almonds in a wide pan over a brazier. He was drizzling honey into the pan, following that up with a liberal sprinkling of cinnamon, expertly tossing the pan to coat the nuts, and he managed to do it all with only one hand. His left forearm was gone just below the elbow. Winry tried not to stare at it, but it was with a professional eye rather than morbid curiosity.

_He still has his elbow joint. The fingers are always the trickiest part, but with just the hand and the wrist…_

The old man turned to bob his head and smile at Scar.

" _Zhaarad_ Andakar! It's a bit early for you to be visiting the market, isn't it?"

"A little, perhaps," Scar replied. "Let me have a bag of those, Bojil."

"Of course." Bojil set the pan to one side, pushing the handle away from the edge with his stump, and turned to a metal sheet where a layer of coated almonds were cooling off. He took a paper bag and used it to scoop up the nuts. Tipping the bag right side up, he handed it to Scar. There were still some nuts left on the tray, and Scar nodded to them.

"Could you put the rest of those in a smaller bag?"

Bojil readily scooped the remainder of the nuts into a small paper bag and gave it to Scar, taking a handful of coins from him in exchange.

"Thank you, Bojil."

"Anytime, _Zhaarad_ Khorovar!"

Unable to contain herself any longer, Winry spoke up. "Excuse me…Mr. Bojil, sir!"

The old man turned to her with a grandfatherly smile. "Yes, _Zhaarana_?"

"I hope you don't mind me mentioning this, but I couldn't help noticing that you've lost your left hand!" Winry said matter-of-factly.

Bojil gave a bit of a shrug and held up the stump. "Well, most people can't help noticing."

Winry leaned forward with the excitement of a craftsman. "Have you ever considered automail?"

The old man gave a start and looked perplexed. "Automail?" He shook his head. "I…no, I can't say that I have."

"You see, I'm an automail engineer," Winry went on. "And I think—"

"An automail engineer?" Bojil exclaimed with a grin. "A little lass like you?"

"She is, Bojil," Scar said. "I've seen her work."

"Well!" Bojil blinked at Scar in amazement, then looked back at Winry. "Well! And here I thought I'd seen and heard everything in all my years!" He scratched the stubble on his chin and tilted his head slightly. "What would I have to do?"

Winry thought for a moment. "You could either come up to Resembool, where I have my shop, or if you preferred, I could move my equipment down here, and then—Oh!" She looked up quickly at Scar. Whatever he was once, he was now the person in charge here, after all. "That is…if that's all right."

"Of course, it would be all right!" Scar replied readily, adding, "Government funding for Ishval has been cut back during the last year, but it's possible that the Ishval Foundation could award you a grant."

Winry drew in a quick breath of surprise. "Really?"

"I could speak to Riza Mustang, the East City liaison for the foundation."

"Riza..." Winry frowned for a moment, then her eyes widened suddenly. "They got _married_?" she cried, then clapped her hand over her mouth as several passersby turned their heads. Behind her hand she repeated, "They got married?"

Scar nodded. "I watched the brigadier propose to her."

Winry scowled. "They got married! Colonel Miles got married!" She gestured at Scar. "Even you got married! Nobody tells me anything!"

"Eh…about the automail…" Bojil ventured.

Winry turned to him. "I'm sorry! Of course! Well, it involves a lengthy surgical procedure because it's linked directly to your nervous system, which means it can move like a normal limb without any external power source," she explained, to which the old man's expression grew increasingly somber. "There is a period of recuperation that can be a little difficult, and it can take up to three years. There are also a few other drawbacks. They take a certain amount of maintenance, they don't do well in extreme temperatures, they—"

Bojil held up his remaining hand. "I thank you, _Zhaarana_ ," he interrupted politely, "but I'll have to pass on your kind offer. I'm eighty-five years old, and I've been through enough pain and hardship. I can't afford to lose three years of my life." With a grin, he held up his hand and waggled his fingers. "I get along all right."

"Oh." Winry realized that she had gotten a little carried away in her zeal, and she gave a little sheepish smile. "I understand completely."

"You didn't tell me your name, _Zhaarana_ ," Bojil said, with a slightly chiding glance at Scar for not having introduced her.

"I'm Winry Rockbell," Winry replied. "I'm visiting from Resembool."

The old man's face was suddenly transformed. He stared at Winry for a moment, then hurried around to the front of his stall. He bowed low in front of Winry, taking her hand and pressing it to his forehead. "Rockbell!" he nearly sobbed. "I should have known! I've seen those eyes before! Your parents…they were here…they saved my life…I would have bled to death! And they took a bullet out of my little grandson!" He raised a tear-stained face to Scar. "My Farzam! He's a good boy, isn't he, _Zhaarad_ Andakar!"

Scar placed a hand on the old man's shoulder. "He is, _djaari_ ," he replied. "He's a fine student."

"He is! He wants to be a doctor!" Bojil turned back to Winry. "Ishvala bless and keep you and your house forever and ever!"

Winry swallowed the lump in her throat and took his hand in both of hers. "I'm so honored to meet someone my parents helped, Mr. Bojil," she told him with heartfelt sincerity. "And I understand you not wanting to go through the automail procedure, but if you ever have second thoughts, you just give me a call!"

Bojil gave his head a little bow, releasing her hand. "It is enough to have met you, _Zhaarana_ Rockbell!" He gave Scar a grateful look. "Thank you, _Zhaarad Khorovar_! Thank you for bringing her here! You really are the kindest of men!"

Scar inclined his head. "You are the kindest of men for saying so, _Djaari_ Bojil."

As they stepped away from the stall and continued through the market, Scar was silent. Winry watched him for a few moments, not letting the sights and sounds around her distract her. Finally, she felt she needed to speak.

"I guess he doesn't know, does he?" she said quietly.

Scar shook his head and said nothing.

_Anything I say would only be an excuse…_

Winry waited for any further reaction but got none. She looked away. "Don't worry. I won't tell him. That's…" She lowered her voice. "That's between you and me," she said. It didn't come out as a threat or an insult or even unkindly. It was simply a fact. His pace slowed and she looked back up at him, meeting his eyes. The look he gave her was one of understanding rather than gratitude. They weren't going to coddle each other.

"Here," he said, handing Winry the smaller bag from Bojil's shop. "You can't visit Ishval without trying those."

"Oh. Thanks." Peering into the bag, Winry followed Scar as he moved on to another stall. She took one of the nuts from the bag and munched on it. It was delicious. It was still a little warm, with a spicy-sweet coating. She ate several more, her fingers getting coated in honey and cinnamon in the process. Scar had stopped just ahead of her at a stall selling flowers, and he was being handed a bouquet of brilliant red roses.

"You're not taking any chances, are you?" Winry remarked, sucking the sticky goo off her thumb.

Scar frowned slightly. "What?"

"Candied nuts and roses?" She grinned up at him. "Just in case your wife gets mad at having a surprise guest?"

"I often buy my wife flowers," Scar replied matter-of-factly. "The nuts are for my daughter and me."

As they continued on their way, Scar purchased oranges, a bag of tea, a pot of honey, and a jar of olive oil. Their last stop was not a booth, but an actual building with a wide front entrance and a second story. Winry looked up at the brightly painted sign above the doorway, which stated in Amestrian and Ishvalan that this particular business was Havoc General Store. The inside looked just like the general stores that were in Resembool. There were shelves lined with boxes and packages and jars and bottles of things that she would see in any Amestrian shop. There were a couple of soldiers at one end of the store, discussing the merits of two different brands of pickles with a skeptical Ishvalan matron, who was insisting that hers were better. Behind the counter, flanked by a couple of large jars full of candy sticks, was a young Ishvalan woman. She was frowning at the pages of a ledger book and sorting through a small stack of papers. As Scar and Winry stepped inside the store, she looked up and smiled.

" _Zhaarad_ Andakar!" she called out in greeting. She let out a little gasp of delight. "And you brought me flowers!"

"These are not for you, Eyla," Scar chided her solemnly. "You have a husband to bring you flowers."

Eyla giggled, and a voice from just beyond a door behind the counter called out, "Is somebody talking about me?" A moment later, the owner of the voice, a tall Amestrian with a short beard and tousled blond hair, stepped through the doorway.

He nodded to Scar. "Oh, hey!" With a grin, he said, "I bought her a ton of flowers while we were courting."

"Yes, but you're not supposed to stop," Eyla said with a teasing look.

Havoc spread his arms apologetically. "We've been married two weeks, honey. Give a fella a chance, will ya?"

Eyla giggled again and wrapped her arms around Havoc's waist. He put an arm around her shoulders, then pulled a folded paper out of his back pocket. "Here's the invoice from this morning. I know it's not flowers, but you've probably been looking for it."

"Oh, there it is!" Eyla snatched the paper and set it with the others. She took a pencil and quickly wrote something into the ledger. "There!" she declared, closing it. "That's done!" She looked back up at Scar with a sunny smile. "How can we help you today? And when are you going to introduce your friend?"

Scar started to open his mouth to reply, but Havoc cut him off. "Oh, I know you!" he said, contemplating Winry with an intent look. "At least, I think I should."

"This is Winry Rockbell," Scar said.

"From Resembool," Winry added.

"Oh, yeah! Fullmetal's home town!" Havoc nodded. He snapped his fingers. "That's right! You're the girl who got mixed up in that whole…" He waved his hand vaguely, not wanting to say too much. "…thing!"

Winry smiled. "I guess that's me. But I'm afraid I don't know your name at all."

Havoc held out his hand. "Jean Havoc of Havoc General Stores, in your hearts for eighty years—"

Eyla rolled her eyes. "Jean, does she look eighty to you?"

"Force of habit, sweetness."

Winry started to put out her hand but then pulled it back. "My fingers are all sticky," she explained apologetically.

Havoc noticed the bag of nuts she was carrying and he laughed. "Oh, yeah, those things." He just waved his hand in greeting. "And this is my lovely bride, Eyla," he went on, giving his lovely bride a squeeze around her shoulders. He gestured proudly at the interior of the store. "And this is my mercantile establishment!"

"It's very nice," Winry replied, although she was much more interested in something else. "How do you know Edward?" she asked eagerly.

"I used to be one of the brigadier's men, see," Havoc replied. "But I got into a bit of a scrape during that whole…thing, and I retired from the military. So where is Short Stack, anyway?" he asked with a grin.

Winry smiled loftily. "He's taller than me, now," she informed Havoc. "And he's doing some traveling out west."

"Oh, I get it!" Havoc replied knowingly. "While the cat's away, huh?"

"No, I just thought I'd do a little traveling of my own."

"Well, we're glad you came," Eyla declared. "Any friend of _Zhaarad_ Andakar is a friend of ours!"

It was an odd position to find herself in, and she noticed a slightly amused if quizzical look in Havoc's blue eyes, but Winry took Eyla's words in the spirit in which they were given. "Thank you."

"Jean, where's that package for Rada?" Eyla asked, giving Havoc a nudge.

"Oh, hold on, they're still in the back." Havoc disappeared briefly through the door behind him, then re-emerged holding a small paper parcel. He handed it to Scar. "Best quality sewing machine needles," he pronounced. "You want me to put it on your tab?"

"If you would."

Havoc held the parcel out to Scar, whose hands were already rather full. Winry quickly reached for it. "I'll take it!"

"Here ya go, Sticky Fingers," Havoc said, handing her the package. "See you around."

Salar was waiting for them not far from Havoc's store, and they climbed back into the rickshaw. As they rolled along, people called out and waved to Scar, from children, teenagers, matrons with babies on their hips, workmen, even a few soldiers. One thing Winry did not expect him to be was popular.

They turned another corner into what turned out to be a cul-de-sac, a kind of large, oval courtyard. Winry gazed around. It was very pleasant here. There were five houses arranged around the courtyard. Some of them were still being worked on. There were shady trees grouped around the houses, as well as a lush variety of flowering plants and succulents. Salar dropped them off and, after being paid by Scar, went on his way.

In the center of this courtyard was a small fountain with stone benches grouped around it. On one of these benches sat a man plucking at a long-necked string instrument. He had a thoughtful frown on his face, apparently trying different variations of the same tune. As Scar and Winry approached, he looked up and grinned.

"You're home early," he remarked to Scar. "Has Ishval decided to run itself today?" The man perked up when he saw Winry. "Here's a new face. And a rather pretty one, too!"

"Miss Rockbell," Scar said, turning to Winry. "This is my friend, Dejan Shua. Dejan—"

Winry let out a little shriek, startling the two men. "Dejan Shua!" she squealed. " _THE_ Dejan Shua?"

Dejan made a show of looking around the courtyard. "As far as I know, I'm the only one here."

"Oh!" Winry shoved her bag of nuts and the parcel from Havoc's store into Scar's laden arms. She reached out eagerly to grab Dejan's hand, then snatched her hands back. "Oh! I shouldn't touch you! I'm sticky and you're so famous and I love your music and I read your book over and over again!" Winry covered her mouth with her fists and gazed at Dejan with awe and delight. "I'm your biggest fan!" she whispered.

Dejan grinned and stood up, setting his lute on the bench. "Oh, well, in that case, and since your hands are sticky…" He took her by the shoulders and kissed her on the cheek. "I didn't catch your first name."

Winry turned pink. "Oh…it's…um…"

"Winry," Scar answered for her.

"Yes! That's it!" Winry nodded emphatically. "That's me!"

Dejan let out a short laugh. "Winry, is it?" He cocked an eyebrow at Scar. "Well, that's interesting!"

"I was so hoping I'd get to meet you!" Winry gushed. "I've read your book over and over again! I even brought it—"

"That's why you came here!" Scar exclaimed suddenly.

Winry gave a little start and looked back at him with a slightly guilty expression. "Well…maybe a little…"

Dejan put a protective arm around Winry. "Well, why shouldn't she? You don't think she came all the way here to see you, do you?"

"No, I don't," Scar replied, giving Winry an indulgent look. "But she is my guest."

"Well," Dejan said, patting Winry's shoulder. "I'll let you go, then. I have to get back to work, anyway. I promised my dad I'd have the upper rooms finished before he and his bride come back out to visit."

"Hm! I can hardly wait," Scar muttered somewhat ungraciously.

"Now, now," Dejan chided him mildly. "I think they make a lovely couple, and you can't blame them for wanting to come out here from time to time where it's peaceful."

"Peaceful? Your house?"

Dejan shrugged and laughed. "Depends on your definition. Me, I love a lively crew!" He turned and strode away across the stones of the courtyard with a wave of his hand. "Later!"

"That's so amazing!" Winry breathed. "You actually know Dejan Shua!"

"I've known him since we were in our teens," Scar replied as they continued on toward his house. "Between us we walk a fine line. He seeks fame and I'm trying to avoid it."

Winry looked up at him as she walked beside him. "So why doesn't all of Amestris know you're here? You're an important person, after all."

"I don't know," Scar replied in a gruff tone that made him sound like the old Scar. "I suppose I've been lucky. For one reason or another, not that many people come here. There have been a few curious visitors, but I'm usually warned about them and I keep out of their way. The soldiers at the fort seem to have agreed amongst themselves to not write home about me." He shrugged with an impatient gesture. "If the news finally breaks out, I'll deal with it then. I can't watch over my people and jump at shadows at the same time. And I refuse to ever jump at shadows again."


	4. Chapter 4

They walked up to one of the houses at the end of the cul-de-sac. The exterior struck Winry at once as a very pleasant aspect. Two large meskaa trees stood at each corner, not quite symmetrically, indicating that they were there first. A variety of succulents had been planted below the windows. Although nowhere nearly as ornate as the entrance of the temple, the simple carvings on the front door spoke of the same craftsman.

Scar turned the latch on the door and pushed it open. Winry followed him inside onto a floor made of large red clay tiles. Now that she was inside, Winry could see how deeply the windows were set, indicating how thick the walls were. To the left was a sitting area with a long bench that ran the length of the windowed wall and around the corner to the other side of the room. The benches were decorated with colorful woven covers and scattered cushions and they surrounded a low, round table of carved wood. On the other side of this room was a door that led to what looked like it might be the kitchen. On her right was a set of stairs leading up to the second story.

Winry actually only had a few seconds to take in the surroundings before she heard two high-pitched, happy squeals. She gave a gasp as two little white-haired toddlers waddled toward Scar with their arms outstretched. They wrapped themselves around a leg each, babbling and gurgling excitedly.

Scar bent down, trying to not lose his armload of shopping, and he spoke a few words in Ishvalan to the children, his normal gravelly tone softened. A woman's voice replied to him in the same language, and Winry looked up to see the speaker kneeling on one of the rugs. She had a gentle, serene beauty, her thick, silvery hair tied back loosely. She got to her feet and walked up to them, regarding Winry with interest, a pleased smile spreading on her face as she studied the girl for a moment.

"You must be Winry!"

Winry gave a little jump. "Oh!" She looked up at Scar, then back at the woman. "Yes! How did you know?"

The woman smiled at Scar. "My husband wouldn't bring just any Amestrian girl home." She looked back to Winry. "And of course, Alphonse already came to see us. It was really only a matter of time." She reached for both of Winry's hands. "I'm so glad you've come!"

"I'm sorry!" Winry said quickly. "My hands are sticky!"

The woman gave an understanding smile. "You must have had some candied almonds."

"We stopped at the marketplace," Scar told her. He twisted a little to present the elbow that held the roses. "Here, my love."

"Oh, Andakar!" his wife breathed with delight. "You're so good to me!" She raised herself on her toes to kiss Scar and Winry had to glance away for a moment, feeling her cheeks grow warm. _Wow, her flexor muscles must really get a workout._ "And you bought tea! Here, let me take those things." She plucked the shopping from Scar's arms. "Silly! Why didn't you come home for the basket?"

"I…didn't think about it," Scar had to admit. With his toddlers still attached to his ankles, he had to twist a little to turn to Winry. "This is my wife, Rada."

Winry gazed at the woman for a moment. She wasn't sure what she had expected, but she had to figure that with his own imposing presence, any woman Scar would be attracted to, let alone persuade to marry him, would have to be someone fairly extraordinary. Winry found herself feeling a little shy. "I'm very glad to meet you!"

Rada smiled warmly at her. With her arms full of flowers and oranges, she nodded toward the opposite doorway. "If you like, you can wash up in there. Then I'll show you your room."

"Thank you!" Winry went into the next room, which was, in fact, the kitchen. It was large and rustic and it had a heavy wooden table sitting in the center. There was a brick hearth at one end, copper pots hanging from a rack on the wall, and a collection of herbs drying on another rack. It smelled good and clean and homey.

"Your needles came," she heard Scar say.

"Oh, good!" Rada replied. "And olive oil, too! You certainly saved me a trip!"

"I thought it best, since I was bringing a guest home."

"That's fine!" Rada leaned in through the kitchen door. " You are staying with us, aren't you, Winry?"

Winry was in the process of turning the spigot on the faucet over the sink. It took a few moments for the water to come gurgling out, just like at home. She looked over her shoulder. "If that's all right. I didn't call or write—"

Rada waved her hand. "Of course it's all right! I wouldn't let you stay anywhere else!"

Winry rinsed her hands under the stream of water, then cranked the spigot closed. There was a towel hanging from a hook at the side of the sink, right where she would expect it to be. Just like at home, she thought with a smile.

As she turned away from the sink, Rada carried up a red clay vase and filled it with water. "Do you have any luggage with you?" she asked Winry.

"It's at the fort," Winry replied.

"It's being sent for," Scar added, carrying the babies into the kitchen.

Winry turned to get a better look at them, now that they were at eye level. The girl wore a yellow dress with flowers embroidered around the neck, and the boy had on a simple shirt and shorts. The girl nestled her head in the hollow of her father's shoulder, shyly peering sideways at Winry. The boy let out a babbling squeal and waved his arm, his other hand tightly clutching his father's sash. They were chubby-cheeked and adorable, and they made Scar look so very normal.

Winry took the little boy's hand. "What's your name?" she asked him playfully, to which the little boy replied with a raspberry.

"His name is Mattas," Scar replied. "After my brother."

"Oh!" Winry breathed. "The one who wrote all those notes?"

"The same." Scar gave his son a little bounce, which made him let out a lusty giggle. "I have high hopes for this one."

"And how about your baby girl?"

"My hopes are just as high," Scar said, kissing the little girl on top her head. He hesitated for a moment, then said quietly, "Her name is Winry."

Winry drew in a sharp breath and stared up at the scarred face before her. "I'm sorry about taking such a liberty," Scar went on, a little ruefully. "A person's name is a sacredly held thing. I should have asked you first, but…" He shrugged rather than finish the sentence.

Rada walked past them, carrying the vase, now filled with roses, and set it in the center of the kitchen table. "We'll have to call her Little Winry while you're here," she said with a smile. "Just to avoid confusion."

Winry gazed at her little namesake in wonder and held her finger out to her. The baby grasped it tentatively, turning it back and forth before putting it into her mouth and gnawing on it. Her teeth were pretty sharp, but it tickled rather than hurt, and Winry let out a laugh.

"I guess I understand why you couldn't tell me," Winry said as the baby girl waved her arm back and forth, Winry's finger still firmly in her grip. She gave Scar a slightly chiding look. "It would have been nice to know, though."

"Well, you're here now," Rada declared, coming up beside her and putting an arm around her shoulders.

Winry tugged on her finger. "Can I have that back?" she asked the baby girl. In reply, the girl let go of Winry's finger and held her arms out. "Oh, you want to come with me?" Winry held out her hands and Scar obligingly passed her over. Little Winry promptly grabbed a handful of Winry's hair and pulled. Winry gritted her teeth, and Rada quickly freed her hair out of the baby's grasp, scolding her softly in Ishvalan. She brushed Winry's hair behind her shoulder and smiled at her.

"That's why I keep my hair tied back," she said. She steered Winry out of the kitchen and made a left turn past a stairway and into a hallway. "This way!"

There were four doors, two on each side, and Rada opened the second one on the right. They stepped into a small room, about six by eight feet, that was simply furnished. There was a bed, which was a mattress on a low wooden platform, a small table with a chair, and a wooden chest. The bed had a creamy white bedspread with a geometric pattern embroidered around the edges, and there was a cloth over the table with a similar design stitched on it. Everything in the room looked new, and there was even a hint of the scent of fresh wood.

"This is really nice!" Winry exclaimed, looking around.

"You're lucky, actually," Rada said. "Up until a few months ago, this was just a storage room. When the administrative building was dedicated, Fuhrer Grumman and Brigadier General Mustang and his wife came out for the ceremony. Miles was asked where they could stay while they were here, since they only had one guest room at the fort. I told him that if he could get us a mattress, we could get this room ready. As things turned out, the Fuhrer himself stayed here."

"Wow!" Winry remarked, rather impressed. "That must've been…"

"Strange," Scar said from the doorway.

Rada waved away the comment. "I thought he was very nice. He was a very thoughtful guest and he said we had beautiful children."

"It was still strange."

Rada proceeded to give Winry a tour of the rest of the house, of which she was very proud. Scar followed them, almost shyly quiet. Winry got the impression that he was anxious for her approval. She was shown the twins' room with their little matching beds, their other daughter's room with its brightly embroidered coverlet, and their own room, which was larger than the others and boasted of the addition of a small vanity table with a mirror.

Heading back the other way, Rada led the way upstairs, which she explained was still a work in progress. At the top of the stairs was a short hallway from which emanated the smell of fresh cut wood and drying plaster. Directly ahead was a door that stood ajar. "This is Andakar's study," Rada said, pushing the door open.

It was a very simple, uncluttered room, with a large desk and a chair, and a couple of tall bookcases. Only a few of the shelves had books on them, but it was clear that there was hope for growth here as well.

"And this is my workroom," Rada said proudly, leading the way back out to the hall and to the left. She opened the door to a room that held a large table upon which had a number of cut pieces of fabric. A very nice black and gold treadle sewing machine stood across from the table, and a set of shelves held bolts of fabric and baskets of thread and other sewing notions.

The other end of the hallway led out to a sort of terrace. It was basically the roof over the first floor, since the second floor didn't cover the same area. There was a covering that extended out from the wall that was made up of narrow tree branches tied closely together. There were a couple of chairs and a wooden bench against the wall, as well as some potted plants. There was a good view of the rest of the cul-de-sac from here.

"Now, back downstairs!" Rada announced. Winry followed her, keeping a careful hold of" Little" Winry as she descended the stairs. They went back through the kitchen and out behind the house, where there was a large kitchen garden with orderly rows of beans, peppers and tomatoes, sprawling vines of melons, cucumbers, and squash, and fragrant patches of rosemary, thyme, mint, and other herbs. Off to one side, a vast collection of diapers hung from three rows of clothesline, as well as a set of rubber diaper pants, which Rada pronounced as one of the most wonderful inventions ever. Against the back of the house was a covered pen that held a small group of rust-colored chickens that Winry recognized as Resembool Reds. The twins babbled excitedly at the clucking hens. In mid-babble, Little Winry tensed slightly, gave a little grunt, then a sigh. An unmistakable odor reached Winry's nose.

"Um…I think somebody needs a diaper change," she said.

Scar handed Mattas to Rada, then held his arms out for his daughter. "I'll take care of it."

Winry handed the baby over, and a hint of a self-conscious smile flickered around Scar's mouth. She was trying to hide a look of astonishment herself, and she watched with desperately mounting curiosity as Scar carried his daughter back into the house. This was definitely something that had to be seen to be believed, but she didn't want to appear rude by deserting Rada while she was enjoying showing off her garden.

But while Rada was settling Mattas on her hip, she suddenly looked toward the house. "Oh! He'll be out of diapers in there!" She shook her head and walked across the yard toward the clothesline.

"Here! Let me!" Winry said quickly. "I'll bring him some!"

"Oh, would you?" Rada beamed at her. "Thank you!"

Winry grabbed several diapers from the first clothesline. With a fist full of clothespins, she turned immediately to a canvas sack hanging from one of the clothesline posts, right where she had one at home. She carried the diapers into the house and followed the sound of baby babbling.

Little Winry was laying on one of the little beds, her legs waving in the air. Kneeling on the floor beside the bed, Scar had apparently made quick work of the soiled diaper and was frowning at an empty basket that he held in one hand while trying to keep his daughter from squirming away with his other hand.

"Here you go!" Winry announced as she handed over a fresh diaper.

Scar looked up at her, a little startled, then a little embarrassed, but he took the diaper. "Thank you."

Winry sat on the edge of the bed and started folding the remaining diapers and putting them in the basket as though this was something she did all the time. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Scar deftly fold the diaper and wrap it around the baby girl's bottom, pinning it in place, all the while speaking Ishvalan in a deep, soft voice and trying to keep the baby from rolling toward Winry. She seemed so small compared to her father's large hands. He then slipped a pair of rubber pants on her. He set her on her feet at the edge of the bed, and he had barely sat back on his heels and held out his hands before Little Winry let out a squeal and tipped herself forward into his arms.

"I'm home!" a voice called from the front of the house.

Little Winry got very excited and went from snuggling against Scar's chest to struggling to get down.

"Ah." Scar set the toddler on her feet and she hurried toward the door, falling once but righting herself quickly. "My eldest," he said, following Little Winry down the hall.

"Your eldest?" Winry said, a bit perplexed. The twins couldn't be more than a year old. "How long have you been married?"

"Almost two years," came the reply.

Winry looked out into the hallway to see the toddler get gathered up by an older girl of about seven or eight. The older girl wore her black hair in two long braids with a few loose wisps hanging over her face that she shook out of the way as she looked up at Scar.

"Papa!" she exclaimed happily. "You're home!"

"I came home early," Scar explained. "We have a guest."

The girl turned to look at Winry with wide blue eyes. "Oh! Hi!"

"Danika," Scar chided her gently, "how do you greet a guest?"

Danika dimpled and gave a little bow. " _Doishteve_!"

Winry gazed at her, receiving the merest breath of an impression, the shadow of a recollection that she couldn't quite place.

"Danika," Scar went on, "this is Winry Rockbell."

The little girl drew in a dramatic gasp of amazement and stared. "Really?"

Winry had to smile. "Yes, really."

Danika was profoundly impressed. She jiggled her little sister in her arms. "That's who you're named after, _zhiiya_!" she said in an awestruck whisper.

"Zhaarana Winry is going to be staying with us," Scar told her.

Danika's mouth fell open. "Where's Mama? Does she know?"

"Yes, she knows. She's in the garden. Put your sister down and help your mother with the laundry," Scar said. "When you're done, there are some candied almonds on the table."

"'Kay!" She carefully set Little Winry on her feet and sprinted down the hall, her braids bouncing. The toddler gave a cry of dismay and started to follow her. Scar scooped her up and headed toward the back door. After a moment of hesitation, Winry followed him.

"Is…" she began cautiously. "Is Danika…um…"

"Mine?" Scar finished her question for her. He looked back at her with a slight smile. "She is now."

____________________________________________________________________

Dinner was a vegetarian affair, since meat required a bit more planning ahead. Rada apologized, but Winry thought the meal was wonderful. There was an ample supply of flatbread and tangy goat cheese, rice from Xing, hard-boiled eggs, slices of melon, and a delicious cold soup of tomatoes, onions, bell peppers, and cucumbers. The toddlers were fed a mixture of mashed beans, rice, and goat's milk. Winry helped feed her small namesake while watching Scar perch his son on his lap and patiently coax food into him.

When the little ones had eaten their fill, they were allowed to cruise around the sitting room while the adults finished eating. The two toddlers seemed to be highly amused with the simple act of walking, and they kept up a constant giggling until they walked into each other, banging their heads together. Then the mirth turned to deafening anguish. Scar got up and gathered the wailing toddlers into his arms, gently consoling them. Five minutes later they were ambling around the room again as if nothing had happened.

Throughout dinner, Rada talked with Winry as if they were old friends catching up with each other, asking her questions about what she'd been up to lately. Scar must have described her to his wife in great detail, which Winry found rather flattering, if a little strange. Danika also kept up a lively discussion about what she was doing in school and about her daily life and about all the things that Winry needed to see while she was in Ishval. The dark-haired girl was still a puzzle, one that Winry hoped Scar would explain to her at some point. He seemed to have made a point of knowing all about her; he ought to return the favor. He sat back quietly and kept an eye on the babies.

Winry's baggage had arrived before dinner, and she unpacked the apple pies that she had brought. They'd gotten a little mashed from the trip, but it didn't affect the taste. The twins gobbled up more than Winry thought they could hold.

She insisted on helping with the cleaning up, and she and Rada continued to chat over the sink. In the other room, Scar sat on the floor while his children climbed all over him. It was all a cheerful, warm, domestic scene that continued to take Winry by surprise, not just because of the figure at the center of it, but at how easily she felt herself being drawn into it and how comfortable she felt there.

Once the dishes were washed, they went outside into the courtyard, which was filling up with the other residents of the cul-de-sac. This was a nearly daily occurrence, especially during the cooler periods of the year. Winry met the remaining members of Scar's family as well as the rest of Dejan's lively troupe of musicians. They all seemed to be related to each other in one way or another, and they all made much of Winry. Scar sat by the fountain talking with Miles, who had put aside his uniform for more comfortable Ishvalan attire.

At one point, Winry went to stand in front of them with a stern look on her face. "You're a sneaky man, Colonel Miles," she remarked.

Miles looked up at her innocently. "Well, of course I am, Miss Rockbell. I'm a soldier. Always catch your opponents off guard."

"Opponents!" Winry scoffed. "Thanks a lot!"

"You did take something of a gamble, Miles," Scar said.

"I never bet on anything if I'm not certain of a substantial payoff." Miles gave a quiet laugh. "It was worth it just to see the looks on your faces. God, that was rich!"

"It could have gone badly."

"But it didn't." Miles looked from Scar to Winry. "Honestly, did it?"

Scar exchanged a somewhat guarded look with Winry. "Not for my part," he said.

Winry considered him for a moment before shaking her head. "Me, neither," she said firmly, as though having accepted a challenge.

Across the courtyard, Dejan and some of his musicians began to tune up. Scar's cousin Damyan unrolled what looked like a leather bag with tubes attached to it and began to blow into one of the tubes, inflating the bag. In a matter of moments, the group started playing at a quick tempo, each instrument taking a brief solo part to show off their skills. Winry gazed at them in utter delight.

"Oh, gosh! This is amazing!" she breathed. "I feel guilty about not buying a ticket!"

"They do this nearly every evening," Scar replied. "Dejan and his group have made plenty of money, but they're just as happy playing for free."

The musicians finished their number and Winry applauded enthusiastically, then stopped and blushed when she realized she was the only one clapping. "That was wonderful!" she gushed.

Stoyan, holding his flute, leaned closer to Dejan and spoke in a low tone. Dejan nodded and said a couple of words to the other musicians. Then he started a slow tremolo on his lute, joined by one of his other lute players. After a couple of moments, Stoyan raised his flute to his lips and began to play a sinuous, haunting phrase, his eyes closed and his brows furrowed in concentration. The tune then went into a more rhythmic, syncopated cadence, joined by Dejan's daughter Mika on her finger drum, but Stoyan was still the star player for this number. The tune gradually sped up and modulated, and Stoyan dressed up his playing with trills and intricate variations. When it came to an almost abrupt end, Winry gave a wistful sigh, wishing that it would go on.

"I can't tell you what a treat this is for me!" she told the musicians. She gazed up at Stoyan with a smile. "That was so wonderful!"

Stoyan reddened somewhat and gave a little bow of his head. "Thank you, _Zhaarana_. You're very kind."

Dejan gave the young man a flick on the back of his head. "Kind, my ass!" he chuckled. "It's the truth! You were practically born playing that thing, Stoyan!" He turned to Winry, jerking his thumb at Stoyan. "I taught him everything I know, and he's better than me! Anything you put in his hands, he can play! Just like my dad!"

The hint of a pleased smiled played on Stoyan's lips at his mentor's praise and he stole a glance at Winry, meeting her admiring gaze. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, _Zhaarana_ Rockbell."

Winry waved her hands. "Oh, you don't all have to be so formal!" she cried. "Just call me Winry!" She turned to Dejan and clasped her hands together. "Could I please ask you to sign my book?"

"You don't even have to ask!" Dejan exclaimed. "Bring it on out here! We'll all sign it!"

Winry eagerly fetched her book as well as a pen from her room in Scar's house and it made the rounds of the entire troupe. She watched with delight as it passed from hand to hand, and when she got it back, the entire inner cover and flyleaf was crowded with signatures and even a few doodles.

Soon it was time to get the children ready for bed. The tub in the bathroom was filled and all three of the children were deposited into it. Winry volunteered to supervise, but this was a ritual that Scar would not relinquish. After a lot of splashing and giggling emanating from the bathroom, the children emerged clean and dry, and Scar was soaked. It was all Winry could do to keep from bursting into laughter.

By the time she went to bed late that evening, she was tired from such a long, eventful, bemusing day. The bed was quite comfortable, but she lay awake in it for some time, thinking. The shutters were open, letting in the cool night air and the comforting night sounds of crickets and distant voices. She turned from her back onto her side, drawing up her knees.

_It wasn't until several days after Ed and Al finally came home that she even thought to ask about Scar. Ed just shrugged and said he'd heard that Scar was missing, presumed dead. He gave a slightly grim, rueful smile._

_"I guess that means you can finally close the book on that story," he said._

_She just smiled and nodded, but deep down she had never felt so conflicted about anything in her life. That story would never get finished._

And now the book was open again.

____________________________________________________________________

"Can't sleep?"

Scar turned his head to meet Rada's eyes in the dim light of their room. He didn't know how long he had been staring up at the ceiling. He shook his head.

"It could have been such a wretched disaster," he said. "It was such a shock, seeing her again."

Rada smiled. "Was it, really? Don't you think she would have made her way here someday?"

Scar moved his shoulders. "I suppose...I often wondered what would happen if she came here...no..." He smiled a little. "On my soul, Rada, I hoped she would come someday. I'm not even sure why. I don't think I could ever talk to her about what hap- - what I did."

"Then don't. If she wants to bring it up, wait until then," Rada said sensibly. "In the meantime, we'll make her feel welcome and safe here. That's our duty."

Scar gave a nod in reply. That really was all he could do. There was still a fine, thin barrier between him and Winry Rockbell and they were both aware of it. Perhaps that was as it should be. Winry had her own life and he had his and there was no sense in letting those lines get blurred. The best he could hope for was that when she left, she would think of him as something other than a monster.


	5. Chapter 5

Sergeant Major Benjamin stepped through the doorway of his commander's office and saluted. "Colonel Miles, sir, there's a radio transmission for you. It's Brigadier General Mustang."

Miles signed his name at the bottom of a requisition order and set it in his "out" basket. "Thank you, Sergeant Major."

He left his office, stepping out onto the covered walkway that ran the length of the long headquarters building. Benjamin strode along just behind his right elbow. "Anything urgent?" Miles asked him.

"Don't think so," Benjamin replied. He gave a wry smirk. The radio room was several doors down from the colonel's office. "What are you going to do for exercise when the telephone lines finally reach Ishval, sir?"

Miles glanced back narrowly. His adjutant was in the habit of taking occasional liberties. He hid a smirk of his own. "Probably chase after you while you're doing laps around the cotton fields with a full pack, smartass," he growled back quietly.

"Yes, sir!" Benjamin replied with cheerful skepticism in his voice. In a somewhat more deferential tone, he began, "With respect, sir—"

"For a change?" Miles remarked.

Benjamin grinned. "Sima and I were talking, and we both agreed that if we have a boy, we'd like to name him after you, sir. If that's okay."

Miles raised an eyebrow. His first name was a closely guarded secret, so that was unlikely. "You want to name your son Miles?"

"If that's all right, sir. My father told me that I was under no circumstances to ever name a child after him."

"And why is that?"

"His name is Zerubbabel."

"I see."

"And aside from 'Miles' being a hell of a lot more merciful, sir, out of all the men I know, all smartassery aside, I respect and admire you the most. Apart from my dad, that is," Benjamin added quickly.

Miles turned to consider his adjutant, then he nodded. "Then I'd be honored. What if it's a girl?"

They reached the radio room and Benjamin pulled the door open for his commanding officer. "Milly."

Miles gave a half-grin. "You're really excited about this, aren't you?"

Benjamin grinned back and nodded. "Absolutely, sir! If you don't mind me asking," he went on, "have you and Mrs. Miles picked out names yet?""

"Well," Miles replied, putting on a thoughtful look. "If we have a boy, he'll be named Attar, after my grandfather. If we have a daughter, she'll be called Mira."

Benjamin frowned for a second, then brightened. "Oh! I see!"

"Calling her Olivier would have been a little…presumptuous."

"Understandable, sir. That's a big name for a little nipper."

Miles gave a quiet chuckle. "Well, from what her father's told me, the general filled up that name from the get go. But Mira has a bit of an Ishvalan ring to it, doesn't it?"

"It does, sir," Benjamin agreed.

Miles headed for the transceiver. "Well, I guess I'm keeping the brigadier waiting, aren't I?" he said, not sounding overly concerned.

"Sir!" Benjamin saluted and left, still grinning.

Miles sat down at the transceiver and put the headphones to his ears. He flipped on one of the switches. "Miles here, sir. How are you, Brigadier?"

"Doing well, Colonel," Roy replied. "Is Ishval still running like a top?"

"Close enough," Miles replied with a slight smile. "Or I should say we wobble along pretty well without falling over."

"There's going to be another batch of troops heading your way in the next month or so," Roy went on. "I know you'd prefer to have them arrive in the dead of summer, but they weren't ready in time and there was no sense waiting until next year."

"That's all right, sir. It's only September. There's still some heat left," Miles assured him.

"That's good. That's not what I called you about, by the way," Roy said.

"Sir?"

"I have something rather interesting to run by you. You'll probably want to pass it on to His Honor."

"And what would that be, sir?"

"Ever been to the circus, Colonel?"

Miles could hear the grin in Roy's voice and he raised an eyebrow. "Not since I was a kid."

"Then maybe it's time you revisited your childhood," Roy said.

Brigadier General Mustang had grown a tendency to dance around a subject a little before he got to the point. That's what happened when you sat behind a desk too long, in Miles' opinion. He made a mental note to get out and make an inspection of the border guard stations. Just on principle. "Sir?" he said, trying not to sound weary.

"Mrs. Mustang and I went to the circus last night," Roy went on. "Popcorn, cotton candy, toffee apples, everything. We had a blast."

"I'm glad to hear it," Miles replied, beginning to scowl.

"But the show itself was what was really amazing," Roy said. "I should explain—"

 _About damn time!_ Miles thought.

"—that this is a new enterprise. They call themselves Circus Chimera."

Miles stiffened slightly. "Circus _Chimera_?"

"That's right." In the radio room at the East City command center, Roy sat back in his chair. He loved tossing little news grenades like that, but never as much as at the unshakeable Colonel Miles. "It was a really interesting show."

"I don't doubt that," Miles replied, still trying to digest this information. "Are you saying that the performers are actually chimeras?"

"Mostly, yes."

Miles frowned at the transceiver. "With respect, sir, it sounds like exploitation."

"Oh, no! Not at all!" Roy said quickly. "The whole thing is operated by a group of chimeras. And I recognized a couple of them. Do you remember Darius and Heinkel?"

Miles gave a slight start. "Yes! Of course I do! They…joined the circus?"

"They didn't just join it, Colonel. They bought it," Roy replied. "Technically, they had deserted from the army, but that was under the previous administration. So on top of receiving pardons, they were awarded compensation for having been victims of the previous admin's corrupt and inhuman practices. They apparently took the money and ran with it. And it turns out they weren't the only surviving chimeras who were deinstitutionalized and out of a job."

Miles nodded. "Jerso and Zampano came through Ishval a while ago. They were traveling to Xing with Alphonse Elric."

"They went to Ishval?" Now it was Roy's turn to sound surprised. "How did that go down?"

"Rather well, sir. But then, Alphonse is the more level-headed of the Elric boys," Miles replied. "On a related note, you might be interested to know that His Honor is currently entertaining another old friend."

Roy shook his head. "All right, Colonel. Astonish me."

"Winry Rockbell took it into her head to take a holiday out here."

There was an agreeable pause on the other end of the transmission. "Seriously?"

"Dead serious, Brigadier," Miles replied. "I'm glad to report that things seem to be going well."

"Huh! Well, I guess that's a relief. Next I suppose you'll be telling me Fullmetal has shown up on your doorstep."

"Not yet, sir. He's somewhere out west, apparently. I got the impression that he doesn't know Miss Rockbell is here."

"Then maybe we should keep it that way for now," Roy mused. "I can just see him haring off east and causing some well-intentioned mayhem."

Miles grinned slightly. "Yeah, I can picture that, too. But about this circus…"

"Oh, yes! After the show, we went backstage—being a high-ranking officer has its privileges—and I got to talking to Darius and Heinkel. They told me that they would like to add Ishval to their tour. I told them I'd talk to you and the _khorovar_. He wouldn't happen to be there at the moment, would he?"

"I'm afraid not, sir. But I can send him a message to come out here when he's done at the school."

"Thank you. I'd really like to support this, Colonel."

"Understood, sir," Miles replied. "Andakar will want to present it to the district chieftains, but I'm sure they'll approve it."

"Good. Get back to me as soon as you can."

"I will, sir."

After signing off, Miles stepped out onto the boardwalk outside the radio room. Benjamin was further down the walkway, talking to a couple of soldiers. "Sergeant Major!" Miles called as he walked up to them.

"Sir!" Benjamin replied as he and the other soldiers saluted.

"Get somebody to ride into town and take a message to the _khorovar_. Ask him if he'll come out here. At his convenience," Miles added, knowing that dashing out to the fort was not high on Scar's list of priorities.

"Right away, sir."

_______________________________________________________________________________________

"A circus?"

Miles nodded.

"A _circus_?" Scar sounded a little repulsed.

"Oh, come on! It'll be fun!" Miles reasoned. "The kids will love it and my men could use some R and R. I know how you feel about outsiders," he went on in answer to Scar's glowering expression. "But they're not. They're actually old comrades-in-arms. Darius and Heinkel. You remember them, don't you?"

Scar was still not convinced. "Yes, of course, but—"

"So they already understand the situation. They want to bring their show here, and I am personally all for it. But just to play it safe, General Mustang can warn them to make sure that their people are discreet."

Scar crossed his arms with stood for a few moments with a thoughtful scowl. "How long would they be here?"

"Our population isn't that big, so I can't see them running their show for more than a few days," Miles replied. "They'll need time to set it up and break it down, too, so they might be out here for a week at most."

Scar still appeared stubbornly unpersuaded and Miles leaned toward him. "It'll be fun!" he declared firmly. "You've been home for over two years, Andakar. Over those two years I have, in fact, seen you smile, so I'm pretty sure you've finally remembered what fun is."

Scar lifted his hands in resignation. "All right, Miles! I'll call a meeting of the chieftains for tonight and we'll see what they decide."

"Yeah, and once they get through arguing about it, they'll go along with whatever you want," Miles said drily.

Scar shrugged. "Most of them."

Miles gave an uncharitable laugh. "Poor Stanno."

"Oh, he'll be all for it. It will mean more business for his pullers," Scar said with distaste.

"Hey, it keeps those boys busy, doesn't it?"

"I did not educate those boys so they could grow up to be cart horses!" Scar growled. "It's disgraceful! No self-respecting girl is going to marry a puller!"

Miles walked around his desk and sat down, leaning back in his chair and regarding his friend with an amused expression. "You really have a one-track mind, don't you?"

Scar looked back at him darkly. "Do I?"

Miles nodded. "For somebody as _chushahaii_ as you, you're awfully anxious for these kids to get each other in the sack."

Scar bridled indignantly. "That is not what I meant!"

Miles burst into laughter and Scar leaned on his desk and said in a cold, ominous tone, "I hope Ishvala blesses you with nothing but beautiful daughters."

Miles still chuckled and spread his arms. "What other kind would I have?"

With a snort of disgust, Scar strode out of the office, Miles' laughter following him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _chushahaii_ =conservative or proper-minded


	6. Chapter 6

"I've gotten to the point where I sometimes forget that Andakar isn't Danika's real father," Rada said with a smile. "They adore each other."

Sitting with her knees drawn up and her arms wrapped around them, Winry gazed at her raptly. "Golly!" she breathed.

Rada rethreaded her needle and smiled at the look on the Amestrian girl's face. "You were bound to wonder. Everyone does, but not everyone needs to know. I felt you should."

Scar had gone to work and Danika to school. The twins were both taking a nap, so it was just the two of them in the sitting room. Winry didn't think she had displayed any unseemly curiosity, as much as she burned with it. But without any prompting, she was treated to a rather extraordinary story, one that, in a roundabout way, had touched her life as well.

She rested her chin on her knees. "You know, for a little while, I thought Kimblee was a nice man," she said, a bit embarrassed.

"Oh, I did, too," Rada replied. "For about half a minute." She sighed quietly as she contemplated the seam she had just repaired. "I've come to think that for every wicked person that walks the earth, one of great goodness exists."

She looked up at a knock on the front door and set the shirt she was mending aside. She walked over to the door and opened it. "Hello, Stoyan!" She stepped back, opening the door wider. "What brings you by?"

The young man entered with a polite inclination of his head to the lady of the house. "I'm here on _Zhaarad_ Andakar's behalf," he said. He looked around the front room and saw Winry sitting on the cushioned bench that ran around the wall. "He sends his apologies. He wanted to show you more of Ishval, but he had some business to attend to. Colonel Miles called him out to the fort," he explained to Rada.

"Oh, dear. Is Miles having a problem?" Rada asked with a slight tone of humor.

"I don't think so," Stoyan replied. "The message asked the _khorovar_ to come at his convenience, so I suppose it wasn't anything urgent."

Rada turned to her guest. "Well, Winry, are you ready for an outing?"

Winry stood up. "Are you sure?" she asked. "I said I'd help you with dinner."

Rada waved her hand. "No, no, this is your holiday." She smiled. "You should see Ishval and have some fun!"

Winry looked from her to Stoyan. "You don't mind?"

"I'd be happy to show you around, _Zhaarana_ Rockbell," Stoyan said. "I even hired a rickshaw. Atash is waiting outside."

"Oh! Well, if he's out there with his meter running, I guess I should go get my hat!" Winry gave a sly little smile. "But I'll only go on one condition." To Stoyan's questioning and slightly anxious look, she replied, "You have to just call me Winry, all right?"

Stoyan smiled, looking somewhat relieved. "All right."

____________________________________________________________________________

She still felt slightly odd being pulled around by a person, but Atash seemed not only happy with his occupation, he took a certain pride in the way he darted and wove around people laden with building materials or market wares or bundles of shopping. He even barely slowed down when he trotted up slopes. Stoyan explained that motor vehicles were only allowed on designated routes so as not to damage the paving, cause accidents, stink up the air, or incommode the passersby. There was also a sort of attitude held by Ishvalans that cars were a kind of necessary evil. They isolated people from each other and stole something from the bonds of community. It was one of a number of things that explained why Amestrians were the way they were. Exactly what that way was supposed to be was never entirely clear, but cars had something to do with it.

Rickshaws were tolerated because they came from Xing, a people with whom the Ishvalans had historically been friendly, and because it was foot-powered. Some, generally the old _baatas_ , were even appreciative of the fact that they kept young men employed who might otherwise be wastrels.

"Even though he sometimes rides, _Zhaarad_ Andakar doesn't like the 'shaws," Atash offered. "But I think it's mostly because it was _Zhaarad_ Stanno's idea, and everybody knows there's no love lost between those two."

Before the story Rada told her this morning, this fact would have been a mystery to Winry, but now it made sense.

" _Zhaarad_ Andakar doesn't dislike the rickshaws," Stoyan argued stiffly. "His concern is that you're not learning anything."

Atash only laughed. "Oh, I learn plenty, _Zhaarad_ Stoyan!" He gave the honorific an ironic emphasis. Stoyan wasn't that much older than he was.

Both young men, each in their own way, were storehouses of information. Stoyan was well-versed in Ishval's history and culture. Atash boasted an in-depth knowledge of what was going on at the street level.

"That woman we just passed," Atash said, looking over his shoulder at Winry. "The one with the blue head scarf. She's got two different men she's been leading on. They live in different districts." He laughed. "They've got no idea!"

Stoyan frowned. "What makes you think _Zhaarana_ Rockbell wants to know that?"

"It's all right," Winry said. "It just shows that people aren't much different anywhere you go."

"That's the truth!" Atash said with a laugh. "It's useful to know these things. I have to know who's mad at who—"

"Whom," Stoyan said wearily.

Atash rolled his eyes. "So I know which shops or streets or neighborhoods to stay away from. If my fares are in a good mood, they tip well," he explained, more for Winry's sake than Stoyan's. "And just to make sure I keep my mouth shut, they tip even better! On the other hand, you've got your nosy _baatas_ who live on gossip, so I know all the best spots to take them through." Atash chuckled. "I could practically live just on my tips."

"How very high-minded of you," Stoyan remarked dryly. "And what will you live on when you're an old man and your bones are stiff and weak and you have no children to support you?"

"Eh-h!" Atash groaned. "You sound like _Zhaarad_ Andakar!"

Stoyan sat back with a hint of a smug smile. If Atash meant that as a jibe, it had apparently failed.

They reached the southeastern edge of the inhabited area, then continued on foot, leaving Atash to catch another fare. The land sloped down gently into a green and gold patchwork of fields that stretched for several miles. In a wide channel cutting through the field flowed a swift river.

"Those mountains in the distance," Stoyan said, raising his arm to point eastward. "That's the southeastern border not just of Amestris, but Ishval as well. During the occupation, The Amestrians confined Ishval to this point where we're standing. They tried to grow wheat and cotton out there, but there wasn't enough water and it was too costly to keep bringing it in, so they finally gave up and let the land grow wild. Since then, our ancestral lands have been restored to us. The Halik there," Stoyan said, pointing down the hill to the river, "has only been flowing since the spring of 1916, about a year and a half ago. It floods its banks every summer and leaves fertile silt, which is why we can grow all these crops now. Before that, the Halik lay hidden beneath the mountains to the east."

Winry grasped the brim of her straw hat as a breeze stirred around them. "Hidden?"

"For a thousand years," Stoyan replied with a nod. "It was buried by a massive earthquake back in the age of the warrior princes."

Winry turned to look at him from beneath her brim. "Ishval had princes?"

"Oh, yes. Some of the noble families still exist. _Zhaarad_ Andakar's family, the house of Ruhad, is one of them," he added with a touch of pride in his voice.

Winry regarded her guide. "You think pretty highly of…um… _Zhaarad_ Andakar, don't you?"

"Of course I do!" Stoyan replied solemnly. "He was my teacher before the War of Extermination and the Exile. He was—is—a wonderful teacher! He even inspired me to consider the priesthood." The young man smiled a little self-consciously. "I ended up discovering a different vocation, but I'm glad I'm able to assist _Zhaarad_ Andakar as well." He looked off to the fertile valley below them, but not without a quick glance out of the corner of his eye at what he could see of the profile of the Amestrian girl from under her hat. "Speaking of vocations, I heard it mentioned last evening that you're an automail mechanic. May I ask how long have you studied?"

"Oh, years!" Winry replied. "My grandmother taught me at home, and then I did an apprenticeship in Rush Valley. That's my vocation." She grinned. "Ed keeps calling me a gearhead, but he'd be lost without me."

"Ed?"

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Winry looked up at him. "He's my…" She gave a little giggle. "He's my fiancé."

Stoyan grew still. "Oh."

"We pretty much grew up together," Winry went on. "When their mother died, Ed and his brother Al—Alphonse—he came out here on his way to Xing, you know."

"Yes, I met him briefly."

"Anyway, they came to live with me and Granny, so he started out as a kind of brother, but…well, things changed," Winry said with a smile that showed how she was still amazed at the changes that had taken place.

Stoyan was quiet for a few moments while Winry gazed at the landscape around them. "Where is he now?" he asked finally.

"Oh, he's off somewhere in the western part of the country," Winry said with a shrug. "Probably West City. He's doing research."

"What is he researching?"

"Alchemy." Winry replied. "He used to be a State Alchemist, but he—" She stopped suddenly and gave Stoyan a quick, anxious look. "I'm sorry! I hope that doesn't bother you! He was never in Ishval. He was too young."

"No, it doesn't bother me," Stoyan said. " _Zhaarad_ Andakar is an alchemist, after all. Of sorts," he added. He gave a nod toward the river. "He used his alchemy to find the Halik and release it."

Winry nodded eagerly. "Miss Rada told me a little about that. I heard something about it on the radio, too, but I think I was too busy working to really pay attention. I really should have Andakar tell me the whole story."

Stoyan watched the flow of the current as it headed west. "You…um…said that Ed would be lost without you," he said, moving a little cautiously back to the previous subject. "Why is that?"

"Because he has an automail leg. He lost his leg…in an accident," Winry answered with just the briefest hesitation. She decided not to go too deeply into Ed's past, which was, to say the least, complicated. "Anyway, I'm his mechanic. Whenever he needs maintenance—because he's always doing something to it—he comes to me." She shook her head. "He's spent so much time travelling around Amestris, it seems like that's the only time I see him."

"Really?" Stoyan said, his interest sharpening. "Well, I suppose once you're married," he went on tentatively, "he won't be so inclined to travel."

Winry shrugged. It was something she was resigned to. "Who knows?"

"Have you set a date yet?" Stoyan asked, then added quickly, "I hope you don't mind me asking. In Ishval, once a couple is betrothed, they usually marry within a month. I know that customs differ in other parts of Amestris."

"Oh, I don't mind if you ask," Winry said easily. "We haven't actually decided yet." She gave a self-conscious little laugh. "It was kind of funny, really. He asked me just as he was stepping onto the train to leave Resembool, so we haven't really had a chance to discuss it yet. I'm not really sure when he's coming back, which is partly why I came out here." Winry lifted her shoulders. "I guess I was bored."

"I see." Stoyan raised his eyebrows briefly and gave a thoughtful nod. A smile grew on his lips. "Well, I hope you don't find Ishval boring."

"Oh, I don't think that's even possible!" Winry said with a wry little grin. She turned to Stoyan. "And you've been a very interesting and thoughtful guide, Stoyan! I've really enjoyed myself today!"

Stoyan's chest swelled ever so slightly, and he gave a subtle lift of his chin. "So have I, Winry," he replied warmly. "Very much."

When Winry had seen enough of the fields of crops, they started back toward the city by way of a different route, walking through orchards that Stoyan explained had barely survived the war. Now that water was plentiful, trees laden with citrus fruits and nuts were being carefully nurtured. Like the crops along the river, the harvest would be double what it was the previous year, giving Ishval a more certain foothold on prosperity.

While the river valley was run as a kind of collective, the groves had ancestral claims attached to them. As they passed by an orchard of almond trees, they found Bojil standing with his back to them at the foot of a rickety ladder, holding it steady with his one hand while a girl in her teens balanced on the top step, her upper half deep within the branches of the tree. Peering up at her, Winry could see that she was carefully tapping the branches with a piece of wood wrapped in cloth. With each tap, more almonds fell, landing on sheets of cloth that were spread on the ground.

"I'm coming down now, _Djaari_ ," this girl announced, climbing nimbly down the ladder and hopping onto the ground. She looked up and saw Stoyan and Winry approaching and her face lit up in a smile.

" _Zhaarad_ Stoyan!" she breathed, quickly running her fingers over her hair to make sure there weren't twigs stuck in it.

Bojil turned around and brightened when he saw the newcomers. " _Zhaarana_ Rockbell!" he exclaimed, stepping up to her and taking her hand with a squeeze. "Getting a good squint at our holy land, are you?"

"Oh, yes, Mr. Bojil!" Winry replied. "It really is nice here! I didn't expect it to look so…green!"

"Yes, she certainly has cleaned up nicely, hasn't she?" Bojil said with a chuckle. He turned to the girl beside him. "This is my granddaughter, Setara," he said, putting his good arm around her shoulders. "She's also my apprentice. And this patch here is our family's legacy." He leaned over and patted the trunk of the almond tree and sighed. "When I saw that these brave fellows were still standing when we came back, I fell to my knees and thanked the Creator." He let his head droop, recalling that moment of humble gratitude. Then he looked up fondly at the tree. "They needed a bit of care, some pruning and clearing, but now they're bearing like never before because of the Blessed Halik." He leaned toward Winry with a sly look. "And the bees love them best!"

He turned to his granddaughter. "Setara…" He gave a slight roll to his eyes. "Setara!" he repeated a bit more sharply.

Setara, who was still taken with gazing at Stoyan, gave a little jump. "Yes, _Djaari_?"

With a kind but slightly wry smile, Bojil nodded toward the almonds on the ground. "Let's get back to work."

"Here!" Winry said quickly. "We'll help you!"

"Oh, _Zhaarana_ ," Bojil demurred, waving his hand. "You don't have to do that."

"But I want to!" Winry smiled. "Those almonds we bought yesterday are gone already, they were so good!"

Bojil laughed. "Well, then, if you like, go right ahead."

There was a flat wagon at the edge of the grove, and it held several full baskets of almonds as well as a stack of empty ones. Winry sent Stoyan, who readily complied, to bring back some of the empty baskets, and they all set to picking up the nuts.

"There's a family who lives near us in Resembool who grows almonds," Winry said as they worked. "They have a machine that shakes the tree so the nuts fall off. It's very quick."

Bojil gave a sniff of disgust, which was pretty much what Winry expected him to do. "That's barbaric!" he scoffed. "Catch me using some godless contraption like that! These trees are like my family. They'd never forgive me!"

Despite having just the one hand, Bojil was quick at his work. Winry watched him for a few moments, then said, "You know, Mr. Bojil, since you're not interested in automail, have you ever considered a standard prosthetic?"

Bojil straightened up and gave her a questioning look. "A what?"

"You know…" Winry frowned for a moment. She held up her hand and curled her forefinger. "Like a hook. I mean, it doesn't have to be a hook," she went on quickly. "If you just had a base, an extension of your arm, you could even have different attachments."

Bojil thought for a moment. He rubbed his chin with the back of his hand and gave a little chuckle. "Like a nutcracker?"

"Well, sure you could!" Winry replied. She raised her arm, holding it horizontally, bent at the elbow. She tapped her forearm. "You could have a simple base made out of something lightweight, like wood, that could be molded to fit and attached with straps. Leather would work pretty well," she said eagerly, the ideas rapidly forming in her head even as she spoke. "Then you could fix a metal housing on it with a female coupling, and you could have a whole collection of attachments with male ends that would screw right in!"

Setara dropped the almonds she had in her hand and covered her mouth, turning bright red and giggling. Stoyan calmly continued to gather up almonds, trying to keep the grin off his face. Bojil regarded Winry with a raised eyebrow.

"That'd be one cheeky female," he remarked dryly.

Winry found herself blushing as well. She sometimes got carried away with being a gearhead. It had taken her a while to realize what had sent Mr. Garfiel into such paroxysms of laughter. She must have forgotten. She cleared her throat. "Well…you know what I mean, don't you?"

"Yes, child, I do," Bojil replied with a chuckle. "I suppose it's crossed my mind once or twice, but Setara is already my extra pair of hands, and when Farzam isn't at his studies, he helps, too." He lifted his injured arm and contemplated the scarred stump thoughtfully. "It'd be handy, I suppose, but nobody around here makes stuff like that, not that I know of, anyway."

Winry gave a little bounce. "I can! Compared to automail, it'd be a cinch!"

Bojil looked at her in surprise. "I…I suppose it would be." Then he gave a shrug. "I don't know, though. We're doing pretty well, but I'm not sure I really ought to spend the money."

"Oh, I wouldn't charge you anything, Mr. Bojil!" Winry said. She looked at him solemnly. "My parents didn't charge anyone here, and I wouldn't either. I'll even pay for the materials. If I could do something to continue their work in Ishval, I'd do it in a heartbeat!"

Bojil looked at her fondly. He stepped up to her and patted her cheek. "Aren't you a dear one!" he said warmly. "If it means that much to you, I'd be happy to oblige!"

When they had finished gathering the almonds, Bojil declared they had enough for the time being and he thanked Winry and Stoyan for their help. "Me and my grandkids will be spending the evening cracking these." He and Setara grasped the metal bar of the wagon handle and with a parting wave, they left for home.

"That was a very kind offer, Winry," Stoyan said. "But will you have the time for a project like that?"

Winry lifted her shoulders. "I haven't really decided how long I'm staying, so I guess it doesn't matter." She smiled with satisfaction. "Besides, now I get to do my part for the restoration of Ishval." She thought for a moment, pulling on her lower lip. "Does anybody around here have a machine shop?"

Stoyan thought for a moment. "There are some engineers stationed at the fort," he said. "They might have some sort of metal working tools. We also have a couple of blacksmiths," he added. "One of the teachers at the school, _Saahad_ Imir, has an older brother who's a blacksmith."

"Good! That'll do for the attachments. How about anybody who works with leather?"

"It depends. We do have a few people who work with animal hides, but the few cows we have in Ishval are still using theirs," Stoyan replied with a slight smile. "Right now, any cow leather is imported. Would goatskin work well enough? It's very durable."

"Yeah," Winry said, slowly and doubtfully. "But it might be too thin and soft. I can have some leather sent in if I have to. Now, let me see…what else…oh!" she exclaimed suddenly. "That Stanno guy! He's a carpenter! I can commission him to make the wooden piece!"

"You could ask him," Stoyan said in a somewhat dubious tone. "He might overcharge you."

Winry shrugged, unconcerned. "Then maybe I'll just ask to use his equipment and make it myself. All I really need is a lathe, and he must have one."

Stoyan looked even more dubious. "Like I said, you could ask. Would you like me to come with you?"

Winry's brows pinched anxiously. "Oh, but I've already used up so much of your time!"

"It's been nothing but a pleasure," Stoyan assured her. "But I think you shouldn't go by yourself to speak to _Zhaarad_ Stanno. He's…" He frowned slightly, searching for words. "He's not easy to bargain with," he said, giving the impression that those were not necessarily the words he wanted to use.

Winry gave a little wave of her hand. "It's all right. I've heard about _Zhaarad_ Stanno. And I already met him. I can handle myself, but if it would make you feel better, you can certainly come along." She smiled. "You have to show me where his shop is, after all."

Stoyan was still hesitant. "I don't know. _Zhaarad_ Andakar placed you in my care, and he might…worry."

Winry gave a huff of impatience. "If _Zhaarad_ Andakar has a problem with it, I can deal with him, too." She laid her hand on the young Ishvalan's arm. "This is important to me, Stoyan!"

Stoyan let out a helpless sigh. "Of course, _Zha_ —" Seeing the warning arch of Winry's brow, he caught himself. "Winry."

_______________________________________________________________________________

Stanno scowled doubtfully at the Amestrian girl standing before him. Just behind her stood that flute player, Andakar's shadow, looking like a watchdog ready to bite.

"I don't know," he muttered. "I don't have time for small bit work like that."

Winry planted her fists on her hips. "If it's so small bit, then it's not exactly going to take very long, is it?" she shot back. "How much would you charge?"

Stanno folded his arms. "How much have you got?"

Winry's blue eyes went steely. "Listen, I've dealt with machinists from Resembool to Rush Valley. If all you're gonna do is give me crap, I'll go somewhere else."

Stanno shrugged and turned away to retreat into his workshop. "How about you do that, then? I only deal in large works."

"Oh, yeah?" Winry countered slyly. "I saw that bracelet you made for Rada. That looked pretty small bit to me."

Stanno paused and looked back at her with a dark look. "That was a special circumstance," he said in a warning tone. "And I can guarantee that you won't find work like that anywhere else in Amestris."

Winry feigned a yawn. "Well, good for you. If I want something flowery, I guess I'll look you up. In the meantime, I need to make a prosthetic arm for an old man who happens to live in the district that you're supposed to be chieftain of." She lifted her shoulders. "I could make it myself in no time flat, if it comes to that."

Stanno let out an incredulous laugh. "You?"

It was Winry's turn to sneer. "That's right! I usually work with metal, but wood isn't much of a challenge. I _am_ a highly trained automail engineer, after all."

Stanno couldn't keep the look of surprise off his face. "Automail?"

"Rockbell Automail," Winry replied loftily. "Third generation! I'd give you my card, but, well, I'm on vacation." She shrugged dismissively and turned away, heading out to the street, striding past her somewhat bemused escort. "I think we're done here, Stoyan. If there's someone more civic minded that you could recommend—"

"Wait a second!" Stanno called.

Winry paused and looked at him coolly over her shoulder. "Yes?"

Stanno leaned against the doorway of his workshop. "You're an automail engineer?"

Winry looked at Stoyan and cupped her hand to her ear. "Is there an echo in here?"

Stanno's eyes narrowed. "How old are you?"

"I'm eighteen," Winry replied, "if you _must_ know."

The carpenter regarded the girl with a look of renewed appraisal. "You can work a lathe?"

Winry snapped her fingers. "With my eyes closed. Which, of course," she added quickly, "is very dangerous."

Stanno nodded slowly. A smile played at the corners of his mouth. "All right," he said after a moment. "Like I said, I don't have the time. I'm working on an oak desk that I'm shipping out in a week. A commission from some rich bastard in South City. His son's at the fort here. I have a lot riding on this piece." His smile grew a little. "My reputation could go nationwide. But if all you need to do is turn a single piece of stock, then I'll let you use my lathe for a couple of hours."

"How about tomorrow?" Winry promptly asked. "And how much will you charge me? Seriously," she added, her brows furrowing.

"We'll work out something reasonable," Stanno assured her. "I'll even throw in a piece of scrap wood you can use."

Winry gave a nod and held out her hand. "Fair enough."

Stanno gave a mild smirk and shook her hand. "Come by around ten tomorrow morning."

"I'll see you at ten."

Winry turned and strode away and Stoyan had to jog a few steps to catch up with her. She gave him a smug look out of the corner of her eye as he regarded her with open admiration. "Told you I could handle myself."

____________________________________________________________________________

By the time Stoyan walked Winry to the front door, Scar was already home. He stood out in the courtyard talking to Dejan, who fell silent for a moment as the two young people walked by. Winry waved.

"I'm sorry I kept Stoyan for so long," she told Scar. "He's been wonderful!"

"I'm glad to hear it," Scar replied, noting the sudden, subtle rosy hue of Stoyan's face.

"I had just come out to watch for you," Dejan said to his flute player. "Naisha says dinner's nearly in hand."

"Oh!" Winry looked toward Scar's house. "I should go in and help Rada. Thanks again, Stoyan!"

"Will you need me tomorrow?" the young man asked.

Winry shook her head. "That's nice of you, but I can manage just fine. I think _Zhaarad_ Andakar is going to need you back at work tomorrow," she added with a smile. With another wave she went inside.

Stoyan turned to the two men. "Winry is going to build an arm for _Zhaarad_ Bojil. She's very excited about it."

Scar's brows lifted slightly. "Did he change his mind about the automail?"

"No, she's just going to make a standard prosthetic," Stoyan replied. "She said it won't take more than a couple of days. But that's why we were gone for so long. She's enlisted the help of a number of craftsmen for the materials."

"Busy little bee, isn't she?" Dejan remarked.

Stoyan nodded and grinned. "I had trouble keeping up with her," he said as he headed toward Dejan's house.

Dejan watched him as he crossed the courtyard and went inside. The lanky musician dropped his head, looking down at his feet as he idly kicked a pebble. "Crap," he muttered.

Scar frowned slightly. "What's the matter?"

Dejan looked up. "Tell me a bit more about our Miss Winry. More specifically, please tell me she already has a fellow."

"Yes, she does," Scar replied. "She's—"

Dejan gripped Scar's upper arm. "Is it serious? Are they engaged?"

"That's what she told Rada yesterday. Mattas was hanging off my neck, yelling in my ear at the time. I haven't yet pressed her for details." Scar gave his friend a puzzled look. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because I'm more than a little concerned that Stoyan's head may have been turned a little too far by your Miss Winry Rockbell," Dejan replied, lowering his voice a little. "She's a lovely girl, to be sure, and I wish her every happiness in the world, especially if she has definite prospects elsewhere, if you catch my drift."

Scar shook his head. "I don't."

Dejan regarded his friend somberly. "I know she's only eleven, but Mika is already sweet on our Stoyan. She's known him practically all her life, and now nature's finally taking a hand. I don't want him getting snatched up by another girl before my baby is old enough to get married."

"Don't you think you're placing your hopes too high?" Scar asked with a doubtful frown. "A lot can happen in the next seven or eight years."

"Listen, I'm willing to shave a few years off of that time if it'll get the job done."

"Dejan!"

"It's not unheard of!" Dejan argued. "Back in the old days, girls were married off at fifteen."

" _Dejan_!"

"Fine." Dejan lifted his hands. "Just do me a favor and set my mind at rest. I'm appealing to you as the father of daughters."

Scar sighed resignedly. "I'll do what I can. But I really don't think you have anything to worry about as far as Winry is concerned."

"I'm glad to hear it." Dejan stepped closer to Scar and pointed a finger in his face. "And I'll thank you to keep that boy busy at work and not escorting pretty girls around Ishval."

Scar pushed him away with good-natured gruffness. "Go home, Dejan!"

__________________________________________________________________________________

Scar regarded Winry with a critical, dubious expression. "And that's all he said? I recall him boasting that he had a pretty smooth tongue. You'd think he could come up with something better than that."

Winry drew herself up defensively. "I knew what he meant!"

"Are you sure about that?" Scar gave Mattas a boost against his backside as the toddler was trying to climb up onto the seat beside his father. "Are you sure you were both talking about the same thing?"

"Of course I'm sure!" Winry countered indignantly. "And I thought it was sweet!"

"I think it was sweet, too," Rada said smoothly, giving Scar a little shove against his shoulder.

"It was original, I suppose," Scar muttered. He handed Mattas a small piece of flatbread. When he looked back at Winry, his expression softened at the glower she was giving him. "I'm sorry, Winry. This is Edward Elric we're talking about, after all."

Winry opened her mouth to give another retort, but she then gave a little grudging shrug. "Well, yeah…" After a moment, she added with more conviction, "But he's dedicated most of his life to alchemy, one way or another, and now he's on a personal mission to help people!"

"And he is to be commended for it," Scar replied. "At some point, however, he ought to dedicate his life to you."

"He will," Winry assured him primly. Her expression relaxed into a slightly wry smile. "Besides, that's not something you have to worry about."

Scar nodded, conceding the point, inwardly reluctant. "No, I don't suppose it is."


	7. Chapter 7

The council of chieftains approved allowing Circus Chimera to visit Ishval, but not until concerns were voiced and discussed. Miles made the observation that the chimeras were victims of the state trying to make their way in the world, just like the Ishvalans. Both Miles and Scar declared that they could vouch for the good characters of Darius and Heinkel. This might have been a slight stretching of the truth, but they were prepared either to be vindicated or take the blame. Then Scar would blame Miles, and Miles would blame Mustang, but that would strictly be between the two of them.

But the circus and the relative merits of its performers were not at the forefront of Scar's mind. Stanno, who readily approved the measure as being good for business, had approached Scar at the conclusion of the meeting.

"That Miss Rockbell is quite a girl," he remarked with a grin.

Scar, who instinctively distrusted Stanno's motives nearly every time he opened his mouth, looked at him narrowly. "Is she?"

"She's apparently quite talented," Stanno went on. "She's coming by my workshop tomorrow to use my lathe, for which I will charge her only a modest fee."

On the one hand, Scar wasn't surprised. Greed tended to be Stanno's primary motivator these days. On the other hand, since this was Stanno, it made him angry. "You're charging her?" Scar asked indignantly.

"Don't get all high and mighty with me," Stanno retorted mildly. "She's a shrewd little businesswoman." His smile returned with a somewhat predatory gleam. "Someone I can work with."

Scar would have shot back with a sizeable inventory of threats, but Kamyar, the chieftain of Wahir, took that moment to approach him with further questions about the circus, and Stanno turned around and left with a satisfied look on his face.

Scar walked home. The night was mild and lit by a bright half moon. Stepping through the front door of his home, He glanced around. All the domestic activity seemed to be concentrated down the hallway in the vicinity of the bathroom, judging by the sound of splashing and giggling.

"I'm home," he called out.

Rada leaned her head out of the bathroom door. "Hello, dear!" she called back. She looked back into the bathroom. "You'll be all right, won't you, Winry?"

"Oh, sure!" Scar heard the girl reply. "We're just about done, I think."

Rada came down the hallway to put her arms around her husband. "How did it go?" she asked, tilting up her face.

Scar kissed her lightly on the lips. "As well as expected. In two weeks' time, the circus will come here," he told her without very much enthusiasm.

"I think that's wonderful!" Rada replied. "The children will have so much fun!"

"We'll see," Scar said cautiously. "I hope their acts don't include a seemingly normal human suddenly transforming into some sort of grotesque animal. That might appeal to Amestrian audiences, but it won't go over well here. It's certainly not the sort of thing I want my children to see."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Rada said easily. "If your friends are anything like Mr. Jerso and Mr. Zampano—"

"They're not exactly my friends," Scar added.

Rada shrugged off the comment. "—who I thought were very nice, then I'm sure you don't have anything to worry about."

"From your mouth to the ears of Ishvala, my love."

As Rada dimpled at him, Scar headed toward the bathroom, stepping aside to let Danika trot past him, wrapped in a towel. She grinned up at her father.

"Hi, Papa!" she greeted him.

"All ready for bed, little blackbird?"

"Yup!" Danika replied as she went on to her room. "I just gotta say my prayers."

"I'll light your lantern, sweetheart," Rada said, going into the girl's room.

"I'll be there in a few minutes," Scar said.

He looked into the doorway of the bathroom to see Winry toweling off the twins. She was concentrating on Little Winry, and Mattas shrugged out of his towel as soon as he saw Scar and tried to run past him out into the hallway. Scar blocked his way and lifted him off his feet. The little boy squealed indignantly, but his father wrapped him back in his towel.

He smiled warmly down at Winry. "Thank you for helping with the children."

"Oh, it was fun!" Winry replied, rubbing the little girl's hair with her towel. She wrapped the towel around Little Winry's head like a scarf. "Wasn't it?"

"Ooowikagershbigsh!" the toddler replied.

Winry gathered her up in one arm and picked up the kerosene lantern with her free hand. She went out of the bathroom and across the hall to the twins' room.

Following her with Mattas, Scar said, "I hear you're going to be doing some work in Stanno's shop tomorrow."

"Uh-huh." Winry set the lantern on a table between the two beds and laid Little Winry on her bed. She reached for the basket of diapers. "Could you get their pajamas out?"

Scar opened a wooden chest against the wall and took out a couple of small bundles of clothing. He handed a small nightdress to Winry. "You need to make sure Stanno doesn't cheat you somehow."

Winry just grinned. "I'd like to see him try."

"I wouldn't," Scar replied darkly. "But if he tries _anything_ , I want you to let me know."

Winry glanced at Scar with a knowing, indulgent look. "Like what? Like getting fresh?"

Scar glowered. "Especially that."

Winry rolled her eyes. "I can handle that myself, thanks all the same." She pulled a clean pair of rubber pants onto Little Winry and sat her up to pull the nightgown over the toddler's head. "Okay, that's you. Next!"

"All the same," Scar said, setting Mattas down on the bed and picking up his daughter. "I'm not comfortable with this."

"You don't have be comfortable or uncomfortable with it," Winry said smoothly. "I know my way around a workshop."

"But you don't know your way around Stanno. I've known him for most of my life, and he's never had a wholesome character."

Winry gave a little chuckle as she worked Mattas' pajama pants over his feet, which he was waving around evasively. "You mean he's a pervert?"

Scar gave an exasperated sigh. "Yes, that's what I mean."

"Well, I'm pretty handy with a wrench," Winry replied, sitting back on her heels so Mattas could fall into her arms. "And I don't just mean around nuts and bolts. Honestly, don't worry about me!" she insisted. She looked up at Scar and made a mock scowl back at him. "Your face is going to stick like that if you're not careful."

After a moment of surprise, Scar smoothed out his features and managed a smile. He wouldn't pursue the matter, but it would be against his better judgment.

__________________________________________________________________

Winry gave her hand a flick to shake off the sawdust, then bent her head back down to concentrate on the piece of wood that spun on the lathe in front of her. Stanno had given her a choice of woods to work with, oak, pine, and _meskaa_. She knew that oak was hard and therefore durable, but pine would be a easier to work with. She finally decided on the _meskaa_ , which Stanno explained was just as hard and durable as oak but had shorter fibers, making it less likely to warp. Winry liked the color of the piece that Stanno told her she could use, which he called the red heartwood of the _meskaa_ tree, and since it was a local product, she thought it would be the most appropriate to use.

She left the house that morning dressed in her overalls and bandanna, leaving Scar to frown all he wanted. It was oddly endearing, but honestly, it really didn't concern him. She stopped by Bojil's shop and took a number of measurements of his arm. It gave her a deeply pleasant thrill to know that the scarred tissue at the end of Bojil's stump had been the work of her father. She could tell that he was thinking ahead, restructuring the remaining muscles to accommodate a potential prosthesis, whether it was automail or not. Winry felt a renewed sense of resolve to complete her father's work.

She then headed on to Stanno's workshop. He seemed cordial enough, although he was extremely proprietary about his equipment. He started to explain the workings of the lathe and cautioned her a number of times until she politely but firmly told him to stop. He continued to hover over her until he was convinced that she wasn't going to break something, and then he finally went to the other side of the shop to work on his own projects.

While Winry adjusted the angle of the tool rest, she glanced around the shop. It was spacious and well-kept. This was a two-story building, and she could see a staircase through a door at the back, making her figure that his living quarters were upstairs. Judging by the size of the ground floor, the living area was pretty sizeable for one person. She wondered why someone his age (she guessed him to be in his mid-thirties) wasn't married, considering this was Ishval and everybody was all about rebuilding everything, including families. She figured it wasn't her business to ask.

She found out that she wasn't the only one who was curious. While she was glancing around, she caught Stanno regarding her with a look of interest. Having met his glance and looking away, Stanno seemed to take this as an invitation to start a conversation.

"So tell me, Winry—can I call you Winry?"

Winry lifted a shoulder. "Go ahead."

"Winry, how did a nice Amestrian girl like you come to be such good friends with _Scar_?" Stanno pronounced the last word ominously.

Winry gave a quiet sigh. Good friends might have been a bit of an exaggeration. "It's kind of a long story." For a number of reasons, she wasn't going to recount all of it. "I guess fate sort of threw us together."

Stanno kept watching her, apparently expecting more, so she continued, somewhat reluctantly. "We were both trying to get away from the same person, so we ended up working together."

"Don't tell me you were on the run from the law, too!" Stanno remarked archly. He crouched down on one side of the desk he was working on to sand a section with fine-grit paper. "Somehow I find that hard to picture."

"No, I wasn't on the run from the law!" Winry retorted. "I didn't do anything wrong. I just got mixed up in the whole…government plot thing," she explained with a vague wave of her hand.

"Really?" Stanno looked over his shoulder at her, genuinely surprised. "How did you manage that?"

"I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, I guess," Winry replied. She ran her thumb along the surface of the piece of wood she was turning, then measured it with a pair of calipers. "I was being used as a pawn to force a good friend to do things for the military that he didn't want to do."

"About what you'd expect from Amestrians," Stanno remarked, then at the look Winry gave him, he added, "Sorry. This was a good friend other than Andakar, I take it?"

"That's right." Winry smiled. She would never get tired of telling people. "My fiancé, as a matter of fact."

"Do tell?" Stanno exclaimed. "Well, well! What a fortunate young man, to be sure!" He adjusted his piece of sandpaper, which he had wrapped around a wooden block, and continued to carefully scrape it along the surface of the wood. "And he doesn't mind that you've run off to Ishval to spend time with a lonely old bachelor like me?"

Winry kept the frown of disgust off her face. _You really are a pervert_. When she thought about it, Edward might actually mind rather a lot. He might also mind that she was staying with Scar. But considering how seldom he called, she would probably be back in Resembool by the time she heard from him again. She was not, however, going to share any of this with Stanno, and she had no problem lying to him.

"No, of course he doesn't mind." Then she thought she would throw in a grain of truth, and she smiled a little. "Andakar's the one who minds."

"Hm!" Stanno turned back to his work. "I bet. I suppose he told you all about me," he remarked dryly.

Winry gave him a quick, cautious glance before setting the tip of the gouging tool to the spinning stock. After a moment, she stopped the lathe to measure her work again. "A little," she said finally. "If you really want to know, I heard most of it from Rada."

Stanno had straightened up and was running his hand over the top surface of the desk. He stepped back with a frown on his face. "You did, huh?" He sounded noncommittal but Winry thought his interest had actually sharpened. "That must have been quite a story," he muttered sullenly.

Up until now, Stanno did not strike Winry as someone who cared much about others' opinions of him. It appeared he had one sore spot. She wasn't sure if she ought to feel sorry for him. "Well, if you really want to know, she was actually pretty charitable," she said. "I mean…considering…"

Stanno made no reply to that, and Winry was just as glad. She didn't want to spend all her time here chit-chatting. They both went back to their work. Winry concentrated on moving the tailstock of the lathe to work on hollowing out the end of the piece where it would go over Bojil's arm. Making it fit properly and without discomfort would probably be the hardest part.

Stanno had begun to rub tung oil onto the surface of the desk, pouring it directly onto the wood and rubbing it in with a cloth with an even, circular motion. The scowl on his face could simply have been one of concentration, but it looked to Winry as though it went much deeper than that. After a time, he stepped back, considering his handiwork with a critical eye.

"Those kids could have been mine," he said, his voice a mix of quiet bitterness and resignation.

Winry had stopped the lathe for a moment, otherwise she wouldn't have heard Stanno's comment. She wished she hadn't. She was willing to give most people the benefit of the doubt, unless they raised the bar a little too high. She hesitated to reply, but the silence that hung in the air begged to be broken by something other than the whirring of the lathe's headstock.

"Even Danika?" Winry suggested.

Stanno seemed to expect that question because he simply considered it for a few moments without any sort of surprise at having been asked. He poured more oil onto the wood and worked it in.

"Maybe. I might have gotten over it in time," he said.

Winry raised an eyebrow. He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself and wasn't doing a very good job of it. "It's not about the kids, is it?" she said cautiously.

Stanno glanced at her then applied to cloth to the desk again, his movements a little more forceful. At least, Winry thought, he was enough of a craftsman to not take his aggression out on his work. Winry picked up the bowl gouge to start on the end of the piece. She worked slowly, stopping the lathe periodically to take measurements. The heat was starting to build up in the workshop. Stanno had already peeled off his shirt and Winry decided to follow suit. She paused for a moment to unzip her overalls, slip the heavy fabric from her shoulders and tie the sleeves around her waist. Feeling much more comfortable in her cropped top, she bent back to her work.

Then Stanno suddenly swore in Ishvalan, and Winry looked over at him with a start. He stood glaring morosely at the desk, and Winry wondered if he had somehow damaged it.

"She's still the most beautiful woman in Ishval!" he declared. He pointed at Winry with the oil-soaked cloth in his hand. "If it hadn't been for you bloody Amestrians, she'd have been—" He stopped and stared at her.

Winry bridled. "Don't go blaming me!" she shot back, completely fed up. "You've got yourself to blame just as much! And I don't want to talk about this anymore! I just want to get done here, so shut up!"

Stanno continued to regard her silently, much of his own anger apparently dissipated. A smile began to lurk around his mouth and he turned his attention back to the desk, moving around behind it and applying oil to the back surface. He glanced again at Winry with an appraising look.

"You're full of surprises, aren't you, Winry?" he remarked.

Winry shook her head. "Yeah, yeah," she muttered. "Surprise, surprise."

__________________________________________________________________

"All right, how does that feel?" Winry asked. She held the concave end of the wooded arm securely over Bojil's stump. She had placed a scrap of wool over the area to act as padding. "Does it feel tight at all?"

Bojil frowned slightly. "Maybe a little." His scarlet eyes slid toward Winry's bare midriff then looked away quickly, but Winry didn't notice.

She nodded. "It needs to be a little looser then. It has to accommodate a little more padding."

"I'll trust to your judgment, _Zhaarana_." Bojil smiled at the girl's intent look of concentration as she peered into the concave end.

She tapped the edge of the wood. "It could go a little bit thinner without affecting the integrity," she murmured. "I just need to scrape out a little more." She examined Bojil's stump one more time. "Yes. Right about there. Okay, Mr. Bojil!" she said brightly, standing up. "I just have to see how the attachments are coming and pick up the leather straps! I'll be back tomorrow!"

"Thank you so much, _Zhaarana_ Winry!" Bojil said, taking the girl's hand. "God bless you for your kindness!"

Winry gave him a cheerful smile and climbed back into the waiting rickshaw. "Okay, Atash!" she called to the puller. "Could you take me over to the fort? I have to see one of the engineers."

"Anything you say, _Zhaarana_." Atash had to tear his eyes away to face forward. He grinned as he trotted down the street, reveling in the stares his passenger was attracting.

__________________________________________________________________

"This is a nice set!" Winry said, admiring the tap and die tool kit that Lieutenant Arliss, the army engineer, showed her. "I should get one of these! My set is getting pretty worn."

"This is one of the latest models," the lieutenant said, taking out an intermediate tap. "This should be the right size for your piece. How are the attachments coming?"

"I have to stop by _Zhaarad_ Sepehr, the blacksmith. He's working on a couple of basic hooks." Winry gave a little laugh. "He's also fixing up a nutcracker."

The lieutenant nodded and smiled. "He does fine work. Bring them on by here as soon as they're ready and I'll cut the threads into them."

"Thanks, lieutenant!" Winry bounded back outside, skirting around Miles and Benjamin as they walked by and giving them a quick wave. "Hi, Colonel! Hi, Benji!"

As she hopped back into her waiting rickshaw and rolled toward the gate of the fort, Miles gazed after her. He shook his head. "There she goes," he murmured.

Benji chuckled quietly. "Miss Winry's always had a mind of her own," he said. "But she's in for a bit of sunburn on all that bare skin if she's not careful."

Miles echoed the sergeant major's laugh. "She might be in for a little more than that."


	8. Chapter 8

Scar had just reached the door of his house when he heard the hum of wheels and the padding of feet as a rickshaw turned into the cul-de-sac. One of the passengers was Stanno. The other passenger was Winry, for which Scar was very relieved. Then he got a closer look and he froze.

Atash pulled the rickshaw in a curve around the fountain and came to a stop directly in front of Scar. The young puller's expression was a mixture of nervousness and anticipation, and he glanced back at the group behind him as he waited.

Winry stood up to get down from the rickshaw, her crop top just about at Scar's eye level.

"Just a moment, Winry!" Stanno jumped out of the rickshaw and hurried to the other side. "'Scuse me," he muttered to Scar, elbowing him out of way. Stanno held his hand out to Winry. "Allow me!"

"Oh, thanks." Winry let him help her down from the rickshaw, then she looked up at him. "Same time tomorrow?" she asked.

Stanno gave a bow of his head. "That'll be fine. I'm looking forward to it."

"And then we'll settle up, right?"

"You know what, Winry?" Stanno said, waving his hand magnanimously. "Forget about it. It's on me."

Winry's brows went up in surprise. So did Scar's, then they furrowed in suspicion. It was something of a relief to glare at Stanno so he could stop staring at Winry.

"That's very generous of you," Winry said. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Bojil's one of my people, after all." Stanno grinned. "What sort of chieftain would I be if I didn't take care of my own?"

"Well, thanks! I appreciate it!" Winry gave him a wave. "I'll see you tomorrow, then." She turned to Scar. "Does Rada need help with dinner?"

"I…I don't know," Scar replied, stammering a little. "I just got here."

"Well, I'd better get inside and give her a hand."

As soon as Winry went into the house, Scar rounded on Stanno, who was calmly climbing back into the rickshaw.

"You know something," Stanno began, settling himself comfortably on the seat and stretching his arms across the back. "That is one abundantly attractive young woman. I just might have to amend my opinion of Amestrians."

Scar glowered. "You will keep your hands off her!"

"I didn't lay a finger on her!" Stanno gave him a look of wounded astonishment. "What do you take me for?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"Mind you," Stanno went on easily, thoughtfully drumming his fingers against the back of the rickshaw seat. "She's a spirited little thing, and I am, after all, extremely eligible." His grin spread wickedly. "She could use my tools as much as she likes."

Scar lowered his voice with ominous rage. "You miserable, misbegotten spawn of a _jhavahal_! If you even _think_ about—"

"Oh, please!" Stanno scoffed derisively. "You stole my woman, so I have to look elsewhere, don't I!"

Scar's eyes widened with disbelief, then narrowed again. He reached over and grabbed a fistful of Stanno's shirt. "I will break you and throw the pieces in the desert for the jackals!"

Atash gripped the shafts nervously, but Stanno calmly pulled himself out of Scar's grip with a chuckle. "Oh, Andakar, it's getting too easy to get a rise out of you!" He sat back and smoothed down his shirt. "Atash!" he called to the puller. "Get me out of here before I get injured!"

Atash loped forward, torn between relief and disappointment. He would still be the envy of the other pullers.

Scar stood seething as the rickshaw rolled away. He had once made a promise to his master to keep his temper with Stanno, and the old man would hold him to it. Scar had to wonder what sort of promise, if any, _Saahad_ Bozidar had wrested from Stanno.

The first thing Rada said to him when he stepped into the house was "What's wrong?"

Scar shook his head and looked around the front room. "Where is Winry?"

Little Winry, who had been cruising around the table, looked up. "Doo?"

"She's gone into her room to change," Rada replied, still perplexed at the stormy look on her husband's face.

"Thank Ishvala for that!" Scar muttered, striding down the hall toward Winry's room. He hesitated for a moment, listening to the stirrings inside the room. Perhaps it wasn't his place, but she was under his roof and therefore his responsibility. Every deep-seated instinct in him was crying out, demanding that he take action. He knocked on the door.

"Yes?" Winry called from within.

"I need to talk to you," Scar told her.

"Okay. Go ahead," the girl replied. "Unless you want to wait until I come out."

Scar paused. No, this couldn't wait. "I warned you about Stanno, didn't I?"

"Stanno?" Winry sounded dismissive. "He was all right. I mean, sure, he definitely has some issues, but he was okay with me. He even said he wouldn't charge me for using his tools and materials. You heard him."

"Oh, I heard him!" Scar replied darkly. 

Winry was silent on the other side of the door for a moment. "Uh…what exactly was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Were you dressed like that while you were at his workshop?" Scar demanded.

"Part of the time, yeah. It was hot. Stanno's used to the heat, and he even peeled his shirt off."

Scar shut his eyes. He didn't want to know that. "And you rode with him all the way back here dressed like that?"

Scar heard a slight snort of laughter. "I rode all over the place like that today."

Scar stiffened. "All over?"

"I even went out to the fort," Winry went on. "I had a lot of stuff to do today."

"And you were dressed like that? Or _not_ dressed?" Scar's voice began to rise.

"I said it was hot today," Winry returned impatiently. She mumbled to herself for a moment. "I was sure I packed that blouse…oh, here it is!" She went on out loud. "What's the big deal, anyway? I did that all the time when I was working in Rush Valley."

"This is _not_ Rush Valley!" Scar roared at the door, ignoring the stares of his family. "This is _Ishval_ , this is _my_ house, and that was _Stanno_ you were riding with dressed like that! Sweet Ishvala, I must have aged ten years seeing- -"

The door was flung open and Winry stood staring at him with wide-eyed astonishment. Scar's mouth was still open and he shut it quickly. He couldn't tell if she was angry or offended or frightened, but whatever her expression meant, it did not seem to bode well.

"Are you…" Winry's voice was hushed with disbelief. "Are you _scolding_ me?"

All of Scar's rage drained out of him as he realized the gravity of his mistake. He took a step back. "I…I'm sorry!" he murmured quickly and awkwardly. "I should not have spoken to you like that." Winry kept staring at him, and to his horror, her eyes started to fill with tears. "I…had no right!" he went on in desperation. "I'm not your fa—"

Winry's hand shot up quickly and she covered his mouth with her fingertips, silencing him. Then she drew her hand away and covered her mouth with both hands. Her voice came out in a muffled squeak. "Nobody has scolded me like that since…since…"

With a sudden sob, she wrapped her arms around Scar, clinging to him tightly, and she started to cry.

Scar stood paralyzed for a moment, then he turned his head to look helplessly at Rada. She only smiled and shepherded the children away from the hallway. Scar looked back down at the blonde head pressed against his chest, and he slowly and cautiously drew his arms around her, holding her close while she cried. Perhaps his instincts hadn't failed him after all, but he wasn't yet sure of what it was he had succeeded at.

_______________________________________________________________

The evening was growing pleasantly cool. They sat on a bench at the back of the house looking out at the kitchen garden. They kept a few inches of space between them while they maintained a calm but somewhat awkward silence. Winry was the one to finally break it.

She looked out into the garden, watching a cactus wren alight on the top of a stick at the end of a row of beans, cock its head at them inquisitively and flap away. "When I was about five or six," she began, "I got a hold of a scalpel from my dad's medical bag and started running around the house with it. As soon as my dad saw me, he started chasing after me. I thought it was really funny at the time, but when he caught me, he really yelled at me. He told me how much I had scared him."

She clasped her hands between her knees and kept her gaze on the ground. When she spoke again her voice was quiet and solemn. "Remember that day when we split up after we left Asbek?"

"Of course I do."

Winry gave a little nod. "May went back to Xing and you and Dr. Marcoh went off, too. I watched you walk away. Every time I watch someone's back moving away from me, I get scared because I don't know if I'm ever going to see that person again. When Ed told me that everyone figured you were dead, I just sort of shrugged it off. But later I went up to my room and cried." She glanced at Scar sideways. "I've never told anyone else that, by the way."

Not quite sure what this was leading up to, Scar just said, a little cautiously, "I'm honored by your confidence."

"I wasn't even sure what I was crying about," Winry went on. "I just felt like something was wrong. Like I got cheated out of something."

"Revenge?" Scar suggested quietly.

Winry's head whipped around toward him and she punched him in the arm, the one she had bandaged that day. "No! That's a dumb thing to say and you know it!"

Scar rubbed his arm and tried not to smile. "I'm sorry. I should have known better." He let out a quiet sigh. "That has been the pattern of my dealings with you, Winry Rockbell. I always should have known better." He studied her face, which was still furrowed in a grimace. "I offered you my life that day in Baschool, and you gave it back to me. No..." he added, raising a finger. "You _handed_ it back to me. That gesture was a challenge to not waste that life, to do something right with it."

Winry's mouth opened slightly then she closed it. Then she declared, "Yes. I totally did that."

"You started telling me something about your father," Scar reminded her.

"Oh. Yeah, I did. There was a point in there, and I'm not sure how to explain it." Winry took a deep breath and frowned in concentration. "I really didn't expect to react the way I did before."

"I thought I had made you angry," Scar said.

Winry waved her hand. "No, I went clean past angry. It was strange. Well...strange to anybody but you and me, you know?"

"No," Scar had to admit. "I'm not sure I do."

Winry let out a little huff. "Granny has always taken really good care of me, and so have Ed and Alphonse, but there was still this empty spot in my life. It's been with me a long time and I've gotten used to it, and I figured it would always stay that way. But then you scolded me, which on the one hand was kind of silly, but you then said you _must have aged ten years_." She gazed into his face, a little defiantly, a little imploringly, as though she wasn't sure he would believe her. "That's exactly what my dad said that day when I was little. And...and that empty spot doesn't feel so empty anymore."

Scar was silent for several moments. He felt like a solemn, extraordinary responsibility had just been given to him. No, he thought with a slight smile. _Handed_ to him. "I would not presume to ever take your father's place," he told her quietly. "But I am the one who created that empty spot in your life." He gave an inclination of his head. "What is mine is yours, and this will always be a home to you if you ever need it to be."

Winry leaned toward him, nudging his arm with her shoulder. "That's good to know." She grinned, not entirely apologetically. "Sorry I made you age ten years!"

Scar let out a quiet chuckle. "It may only have been a year or two," he admitted wryly. "Although I don't know what was worse, seeing you bursting into tears or seeing you half-dressed in that rickshaw with Stanno."

"I was _not_ half-dressed!"

Scar was about to debate the point, but Rada looked around the doorway at them. "Dinner's waiting," she said, a gentle reminder that life was still going on elsewhere. "And Danika's getting worried."

Winry stood up quickly. "Coming!"

Scar stood up, a little more slowly. His knees felt a little weak, but he following Winry into the house with a lighter heart than when they left it.

_______________________________________________________________

Although no longer bound to the priesthood, Scar still considered himself a warrior, and he still rose early to begin the day with the ritual of prayer and exercise. By the time he was finished, the rest of the household would be stirring. He went back inside from the garden and paused at the hallway, hearing squeals and giggles, all of which seemed to be coming from Winry's room. The door was open and Scar went to peer in. From what he could tell, Winry and Danika were under the covers of Winry's bed, and Mattas and Little Winry were crawling over them, trying to find them. The room was filled with delighted squealing and laughter. Smiling to himself, Scar moved on. He had learned to accept blessings humbly, but none were sweeter than those that came unlooked for. 


	9. Chapter 9

A small crowd of neighbors and fellow merchants had gathered around Bojil's almond stall, craning their necks and peering in curiously as the old man flexed his new arm up and down and twisted it back and forth. There was a hushed anticipation in the crowd as they awaited the final verdict. Winry stood before Bojil and watched him carefully, gauging his reactions and eyeing her work critically. Just behind her stood Stanno, who had accompanied Winry to take part in the presentation. Winry had kept her overalls demurely buttoned up, so if he was expecting a repeat performance, she intended to disappoint him.

"Is it too heavy?" she asked anxiously. "Is it comfortable? How are the straps? Are they tight enough? Are they too tight?"

The old man beamed a smile at her. "It's perfect, _Zhaarana_!" He held up his arm to admire the prosthesis. Winry had given the wood several coats of tung oil and it gleamed with a soft shine. The hook that was attached to the end had been etched with a sort of geometric knot design. "I can't thank you enough!"

"That's a splendid piece of work," Stanno remarked generously. "You're a very lucky fellow, Bojil."

Bojil dipped his head humbly to the chieftain of Kanda. "I am, indeed, _Zhaarad_ Stanno. My thanks to you as well!"

Bojil's grandchildren stood beside him, gazing at their grandfather's new arm. "Put in the nutcracker, _Djaari_!" Setara urged him.

"Ah, yes!" Bojil grasped the hook and unscrewed it out of the end of the arm. He picked up the nutcracker, which was an ordinary household nutcracker with a threaded end soldered onto one of the handles. He screwed it into the coupling on his arm and his grandson Farzam solemnly handed him an almond. Bojil situated the nut between the jaws of the nutcracker and squeezed, neatly cracking the shell. Bojil laughed and popped the nut meat into his mouth. The surrounding crowd sighed and cheered and clapped their hands along with the grandchildren.

" _Zhaarana_ Winry!" Bojil exclaimed. "It was such a blessing that you came here! Ishvala must have had a hand in it!" He gazed at the Amestrian girl affectionately. "I'm sure your parents would be so very proud of you."

"Indeed!" Stanno put an arm around Winry's shoulders. "I couldn't have put it better myself."

Winry felt a pleasant flush grow on her cheeks. "I'd sure like to think I was carrying on their work," she replied. "I didn't even make the whole thing. I had a lot of help."

"Yes, but you were the driving force behind it," Stanno said.

"That's very true!" Bojil agreed. "I wouldn't have this now if it weren't for you."

Winry lifted her shoulders in a modest shrug that also served to move them out from under Stanno's not-entirely-avuncular arm. "I was just happy to do it. It'll probably take a little time to get used to it," she told Bojil. "But if you have any problems, you let me know, all right?"

"It will be fine, I'm sure!" Bojil replied. "I'm going to get back to work and put it to the test," he added with a wink.

As Winry stepped back out into the street, the Ishvalans gathered around the stall moved aside almost reverently, nodding to her and murmuring their thanks, as though Bojil's good fortune benefited them just as much. Stanno walked along beside her, not entirely averse to basking in her glory.

"Let me get you a ride," he offered as they moved away from the crowd. He waved to a puller who stood a little further up the street, waiting or a fare. It happened to be Atash, who perked up and trotted over to them.

"Where can I take your honors?" he asked brightly.

"Back to _Zhaarad_ Andakar's house, please, Atash," Winry replied, climbing up into the rickshaw.

"You can drop me off at my shop," Stanno added, climbing up beside her.

Atash gripped the shafts and started forward. "You'll be there before you know it!"

"Oh, there's no hurry," Stanno told him, settling himself comfortably and stretching an arm across the back of the seat, something Winry made a point of not noticing. As they set off, the carpenter studied the girl's profile out of the corner of his eye. "How long were you planning on staying here in Ishval, Winry?" he asked her. "Long enough to make adjustments on Bojil's arm if he needs it? Or do you have grander plans?"

"To be honest, I haven't really decided yet," Winry said. "I was sort of seeing how things worked out, I guess." She smiled to herself. "Things have turned out so well, and I like it here so much, I almost don't want to go."

Stanno gave a shrug. "Then don't. Why don't you just settle here? You'd be such an asset to this place. No, that's not quite the word I was looking for." He put on a thoughtful frown and rubbed his chin. Then he brightened. "Ah, no! You'd be a jewel!"

Winry couldn't help rolling her eyes. "That's really nice, but I have to go home sometime. My grandmother is going to miss me, for one thing."

"Bring her out here!" Stanno waved his arm at the surroundings they were rolling through. "If she's anything like you, everybody will love her!"

Winry shook her head. "No, she's not going to leave her house. And besides, there's Ed."

"Ed?" Stanno repeated the name as though he didn't quite like the feel of it in his mouth. "Is he your betrothed?"

"That's the one," Winry answered with a touch of pride in her voice.

"The one who isn't here?" Stanno went on pointedly.

Winry frowned a little. "He's busy."

Stanno made a couple of tsking sounds. "Too busy for you?"

"I don't like a man who just sits around and does nothing," Winry countered. "He's working for a good cause and I'm proud of him for it!"

Stanno nodded with approval. "Well, good for him, then!" He put on a charming smile and leaned closer to Winry. "All I can say is if you were my intended, I wouldn't let you out of my sight."

 _And me without my wrench_ , Winry thought. She sighed and turned to Stanno with a stern arch to her eyebrows. "You're not fooling anybody, you know."

Stanno looked guardedly blank. "How's that?"

"Oh, please!" Winry pushed him away. "You're practically old enough to be my dad, so I shouldn't have to be the one to tell you to grow up! You're not even interested in me!"

Stanno contrived to look wounded. "I'm fascinated by you!"

She gave him a look of good-natured reproach. "You're just messing with Andakar."

Stanno opened his mouth to reply, then shut it again. He sat back and smiled a little ruefully. "Well, you've got me there." He let out a long sigh. "You know, as a craftsman, I appreciate symmetry. Those two are the most mismatched couple I've ever seen."

Winry shrugged. "I think they're lovely together," she returned. "And you need to get over it and move on with your life or you're just going to become a bitter old man." She nodded toward something past Stanno's shoulder. "Here's your stop."

Stanno went from staring at Winry to glancing over his shoulder at his workshop. With a wry expression he nodded. "So it is." He climbed out of the rickshaw and turned back to Winry. "Even so, you're quite a girl. I hope your Ed appreciates how much." His smile grew. "And if he doesn't, you know where to find me."

Winry gave him a sweet smile. "Don't wait up."

Stanno laughed and clapped his hand against the armrest of the rickshaw. "Take her home, Atash," he told the young puller. "I'll settle your fare with you later."

"I'm holding you to that, _Zhaarad_ Stanno," Atash replied, pulling back out into the street, grinning to himself. With the stories he'd been able to tell his fellow pullers lately, he was becoming quite a celebrity.

_________________________________________________________________________

Rada laughed but Scar frowned a little. "Whatever you do," he told her, "don't say 'poor Stanno'."

"No, no, I won't," Rada said, still chuckling softly. "But I've never heard of anyone being put in their place so neatly. Well done, Winry!"

They sat outside in front of the house, watching the children play with their aunts and uncles out in the courtyard and enjoying the last of the late September evening. Dejan and a few of his musicians began tuning up for a little practice.

Winry smiled. "I won't say 'poor Stanno' either, but he is kind of a sad case, in a way. He's still in love with you, you know," she said to Rada.

"Yes, I know," Rada sighed. Acknowledging the dismissive grunt that Scar let out with a slight shake of her head, she said, "In his own way, he's trying to make amends. He made all that furniture we have, and he wanted us to think he was overcharging us for it, but I knew better. He also gave the children a set of blocks and carved animals that he said was just scrap wood that he had no use for. I thought that was sweet."

"If he could learn to practice a little humility, he might become tolerable someday," Scar said. "He might even be able to find a woman who could stand his company." He jerked his chin toward the other side of the cul-de-sac. "He could learn a thing or two from Stoyan. He's intelligent, he's talented, but he's humble."

The humble young man stepped away from the group of musicians and walked over to them. With a slight bow of his head, he turned to Winry. "We're going to practice a new piece I've—we've been working on. I'd be grateful if you'd come and tell us what you think."

Winry perked up. "You would? I don't really know much about music."

Stoyan shook his head and smiled. "You don't have to. Just let me know if you like it or not."

"I'm sure I'll like it!" Winry said, standing up and accompanying the young flute player across the cul-de-sac.

Scar and Rada watched them for a few moments in silence as they walked away.

"Oh, dear," Rada said finally with a quiet little laugh. "Our Miss Rockbell has become quite the darling, hasn't she?"

Scar sighed deeply and crossed his arms. "If she has, Fullmetal only has himself to blame." He shook his head in disgust. "'Equivalent exchange!' What an idiot!"


	10. Chapter 10

"It doesn't rain but it pours."

Miles glanced up from the delivery that had been brought in by courier barely half an hour ago. The unamused look in his eyes told his adjutant what he thought of his philosophical observations.

"Thanks, Benji," he muttered.

"No problem, sir. Will you be radioing the brigadier?" Benjamin asked.

"Not yet." Miles frowned at the paper on his desk. "I might say something I'll regret. Let's assess the situation first." He stood up, handing the envelope and its contents to the sergeant major. "Andakar said he was going out to meet with the circus people, so let's saddle up and track him down."

_____________________________________________________________

The clanging of metal against metal rang through the air as four roustabouts wielding four sledge hammers pounded a thick metal tent stake into the ground in an easy, practiced rhythm. The sound mixed with the calls of humans and the huffing, whinnying, and growling of animals.

Danika and Mika cautiously held their hands out and giggled as the baby elephant searched their palms with her small trunk. Scar hovered behind them, keeping one eye on the girls and the other on the baby's enormous mother. Darius assured him that Hyacinth was a sweetheart who loved showing off her baby, but Scar couldn't help feeling a little anxious. She was huge, and it was difficult to believe that the short, spare young man who stood at the elephant's shoulder could actually control her if she thought her baby was being threatened. After all, he knew how he would react. But neither Darius nor Heinkel, who were busy talking to Winry, were the least bit concerned. Winry was more interested in the capuchin monkey perched on Darius' shoulder, or rather the monkey was more interested in her. He kept doffing his tiny fedora to her. Scar had to smile to himself. The girl's list of admirers was still growing.

Mika looked up at the massive female. "Your baby is very beautiful, Miss Hyacinth."

Hyacinth let out a proud, satisfied snuff through her trunk.

"Yeah, Hyacinth is all about babies these days," Darius chuckled. The monkey looked away from Winry for a moment to let out a short peal of chatter. "Yes, Manfred," Darius replied with weary patience. "You're all about food. Let's get set up first."

Manfred grinned and chattered again, leering at Winry.

Darius rolled his eyes. "And you can keep your personal life to yourself."

"Can you tell what all the animals are saying?" Danika asked in wonder.

"Sure," Darius replied easily. "All us chimeras can. The ordinary folk sometimes think we're pulling their legs, but we know the score, don't we Manny?"

Manfred squawked sharply.

"The guy who used to own this circus abused the animals," said Todd, the elephants' caretaker, as he scratched Hyacinth's shoulder. "So us chimeras put all our government checks together and bought it from him."

"So now the animals are a lot happier," Heinkel joined in. "And we keep 'em that way. We've got plenty of other acts, but it's the animal performers who really steal the show. If they've got a problem or something they need, they can come to us and tell us what's on their minds."

"Take little Petal here," Darius said, gesturing toward the baby elephant. "Her ma told us she really wanted to have a baby before she got too much older, so once we had control of the circus, we made an arrangement with the Central City Zoo, who had a fine looking bull elephant."

"It was very romantic," Todd added as Hyacinth waggled her ears in agreement.

Manfred let out an angry screech and jumped up and down on Darius' shoulder. The other chimeras groaned.

"Get over it, Manny!" Darius growled. "The head of the monkey troupe said no. I know you like to butt in on other peoples' acts, but we gotta draw the line somewhere!" He gave Scar an apologetic look. "Then again, there are some who are just a little harder to please."

Manfred hopped from Darius' shoulder to Winry's and stuck his tongue out at the chimera.

"Aw, quit sulking!" Darius turned to Winry. "If he gets fresh, you let me know."

Winry giggled as the monkey wrapped his tail around her neck and settled himself comfortably. "Like I haven't heard that before!" she said, exchanging an amused glance at Scar.

Danika frowned and whispered to Mika, "Is that grown-up stuff they're talking about?"

Mika shrugged. "I think so."

Danika nodded solemnly, then let out a little gasp. "Oh, _look_!" she breathed, pointing past one of Hyacinth's broad legs. A short distance away, a very tall man plodded across the grounds with two gleaming white horses prancing beside him. Trotting along behind them were a half dozen miniature horses.

"How's it going, Rudy?" Heinkel called to the man. "You need anything?"

The large man raised a large hand and waved. "No, Mr. Heinkel. Everything's fine," he called back in a deep, slowly deliberate voice.

"You kids can go meet the horses if you like," Darius suggested.

Danika looked up pleadingly at Scar. "Can we, Papa?" she begged. "Please?"

"I'll go with them," Winry said.

"All right, but be careful," Scar replied. "Mind what Auntie Winry tells you."

The two younger girls were about to dart away, but Mika grabbed Danika's arm and gave Hyacinth a little bow. "It was very nice meeting you, Miss Hyacinth."

Danika bobbed her head as well. "Oh, yes!"

The elephant gave an indulgent shake of her head and the girls ran off to follow the horses. Then she turned a small brown eye to Scar and lifted her trunk toward him, rustling his hair with a quick puff of breath. Then she let out a low, rumbling sound, and Scar got the uncanny feeling that it contained a tone of approval.

Todd grinned. "She says you're doing a good job raising your children."

"Oh…thank you," Scar replied, eyeing the elephant's inquisitive trunk a little uncertainly. "Only one of them is mine, though. The dark-haired one."

Darius and Heinkel glanced at each other. "But…uh…she's not actually yours, is she?" Darius asked tentatively. "I wouldn't say that to just anybody," he added as Scar turned a level, red-eyed gaze at him. "But…" He nodded in the direction Danika had gone. "…you know what I'm saying?"

Scar nodded reluctantly. Someday he will have gone through all of Kimblee's former acquaintances and wouldn't have to go through this again. "Yes, I know," he replied. "It's a long story that's over now."

Darius held up his hands. "Hey, no problem. Anyhow, it looks like she turned out fine."

"You know," Heinkel ventured to say, "I sunk my teeth into that sonofabitch's neck. You okay with that?"

Scar gave him a slightly surprised, slightly grim look. "Perfectly."

"We'll be going on now," Todd said. "The other ladies are waiting for us and I don't want them to start fretting." He gave Hyacinth a pat on the neck and the elephant lowered her head. Todd stepped onto the bend of her trunk and Hyacinth lifted him effortlessly to her head, where he settled himself just behind her ears. Hyacinth moved slowly away with Petal trotting after her.

As Scar watched them amble away, Heinkel said, "They used a fox for him, in case you're wondering."

"That wasn't what I was wondering," Scar replied. "How many chimeras do you have in your circus?"

"There's twelve of us," Darius answered. "Most are ex-military, but not all of 'em. Some of 'em were just dirt poor and signed up for what they thought was a medical trial that they were gonna get paid for. Talk about a rude awakening." He shook his head. "Poor bastards."

"That fellow, Rudy, is part draft horse." Heinkel let out a quiet chuckle. "He and those little horses all sleep in the straw together."

"And to what extent are the chimeras involved in the performances?" Scar asked looking from the one to the other.

"You mean do we go into animal mode ourselves?" Darius asked with a lift of his eyebrow. "No, we don't. This may be a circus, but it ain't a freak show. We don't exploit the animals and we don't exploit ourselves, either."

Heinkel nodded. "We called it Circus Chimera 'cause it had a nice ring to it, but we want to show people that we're normal." He gave a slight shrug. "Mostly. We've got plenty of regular folk as well. Only one of the aerialists is a chimera. We got jugglers, acrobats—"

" _Maaasterrrrrr_!"

Darius sighed. "…clowns…"

Before Scar could react, he found his knees enveloped by a pair of skinny arms, and the air was rent with wailing.

"…not all of whom are funny…" Darius mumbled wearily.

"Master Scar!" Yoki sobbed, lifting a pale face and a slightly askew mustache. "I thought I would never see you again! You have no idea what I've been through!" He drew in a long wheezing breath. "While taken with delirium, I no longer know what it is that I say, or what it is that I am doing! And yet I must! Bah! I am not a man, but a clown! Put on the motley, they tell me, and paint your face! The people pay and laugh when they please. And if every shred of dignity you ever had has been stolen from you, you must laugh instead of weep! Turn the spasms and tears of pain into laughter! Laugh, clown! Laugh at the pain, even if your heart is broken!"

While Yoki sank into a puddle of misery at Scar's feet, Darius and Heinkel looked deeply embarrassed.

"I was kind of afraid this would happen," Heinkel muttered.

"Get up off the ground, Fuzzy Lip!" Darius growled. "We got you off the streets and gave you a job, didn't we?"

Yoki sat back on his heels and glared at them. "You call this a job?" he cried bitterly. "Shoveling elephant dung?"

Darius gave Heinkel a deadpan look. "He may have a point. Some of those turds are bigger than he is."

"I'm surprised anyone can tell the difference," Heinkel replied.

Yoki jabbed a finger in their direction and glared up at Scar. "Did you hear that? You see what I have to put up with?" He poked himself in the chest several times. "I used to be somebody!"

"You used to be wanted by the authorities," Scar told him, trying not to sound too indifferent. "It seems to me that you should count yourself fortunate."

Yoki stood up and dusted himself off indignantly. "Fortunate!" he mumbled.

The sound of hoofbeats made them turn to see Miles ride up and dismount his sorrel mare. "Andakar!" Sergeant Major Benjamin dismounted beside him, and the two led their horses forward. Darius stepped forward and extended his hand. "Colonel Miles!" he exclaimed. "Great to see you again!"

Miles shook his hand, then Heinkel's. "Likewise, gentlemen. How is the—"

"A- _hem_!" Yoki coughed loudly.

"I beg your pardon, uh…"

Yoki folded his arm and turned away. "Oh, never mind! Don't mind me!"

Miles took him at his word and turned back to the chimeras. "How is this location working out for you?"

"It's fine," Heinkel said, looking around appraisingly. "Nice and flat, not too far from town."

"We'll be giving our first show tomorrow evening," Darius added. "We have some posters we'd like to put up."

Miles nodded. "That'll be fine. Everybody's looking forward to it." He looked at Scar with a somber expression. "I need to talk to you. We may have a problem."

Scar frowned. "What is it?"

Miles hesitated, then turned to the chimeras. "Is there someplace private around here we can talk? I'd rather not take the time to go all the way back to the fort."

"Yeah, sure." Darius jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "You can use our office. If you like, Rudy can watch your horses for you."

Miles looked around for whoever Rudy was, but Darius went up to the horses' heads and made a few breathy sounds like he was clearing his throat, then he pointed off to his left, toward a group of tents. The two army horses gave a brief toss of their heads and trotted away in the indicated direction.

Miles stared after them but Darius waved his hand. "No worries," he said. "They'll find Rudy just fine. I told them he's got carrots."

The Ishvalan commander frowned slightly but nodded. "All right. So show me this office of yours."

They set off across the grounds to where a row of various vehicles stood, and Darius and Heinkel headed toward one of the larger trailers. Heinkel mounted a set of steps at the back end and opened the door.

"Come on in," he announced, stepping aside.

"Do you need us to make ourselves scarce?" Darius asked. "Is this top secret government stuff?"

Miles looked from one chimera to the other. "Not exactly." He thought for a moment, then nodded. "Considering you're in on this particular secret, I suppose your opinions could be useful."

Darius exchanged a somewhat surprised glance with Heinkel. "Nice!"

Once they were inside and the door was closed, Miles turned to his adjutant and and held out his hand. Benjamin promptly took a large manila envelope from under his arm and handed it to his commander. Miles took it over to a table that was bolted to the floor at the center of the trailer. Opening it, he pulled out a sheet of what looked like newsprint and laid it on the table. It was most of the page of a newspaper, at the top of which was printed two photographs. One was a clear picture of the "wanted" poster that had a pencil sketch of Scar. Alongside it was a very grainy shot of a broad shouldered man whose outline looked like Scar's. The figure in the picture was wearing pale clothing and he stood against a background of pale buildings that looked like Ishvalan architecture. The man's head was turned partly to one side, and a ponytail could just be seen at the nape of his neck. A caption in large, bold letters below the pictures asked _**IS THIS SCAR?**_ Just beneath that was printed _**Is this notorious killer still alive and at large? What does the government know about this?**_

The brief article below went on to tout the courage of the intrepid photographer who ventured into Ishval, snapped the picture, then made a daring escape. The article was otherwise vague as far as actual evidence.

"This," Miles stated, "is our problem. It was brought in from East City Command by special courier. The date on it was two days ago."

Scar scowled at the picture and shook his head. "I have no recollection of this ever happening," he said. "If strangers ever come in on the train, I'm always informed."

"Which could mean," Miles went on, "that whoever took this shot could have driven here and parked his car far enough away to not be seen but close enough to walk."

Scar reached out and tapped some penned-in words at the top left corner of the clipping that demanded _Where is your security?_ "Mustang?"

Miles' jaw tightened. "Yes," he replied tersely. "I have a few sentries who just might get their asses raked over the coals."

Darius leaned on the table and frowned at the clipping. "This has to have been taken from a long way off with one of those telephoto lenses and then blown up. The quality is terrible."

"That's what I said," Benjamin agreed. "And then there's this." He turned the paper over to reveal the front page of _The Delver_. "This is one of those god-awful scandal rags," he said. "I mean, look at this article! They'll print any bullshit they get their hands on, and if they can't get their hands on enough, they'll make stuff up. Crazy stuff, you know? Like Fuhrer Grumman is a closet cross dresser. That kind of thing." He tapped the paper. "Nobody really takes it seriously."

"I don't, Benji," Miles said in a tone that suggested they'd been through this already. "And you don't. But there are a lot of really stupid people out there." He gestured dismissively at the paper. "Otherwise these tabs wouldn't be making money hand over fist."

Heinkel picked the paper up and turned it over to examine the two pictures. "I dunno… somebody could've just touched this up to make it look like Scar—sorry—Andakar. Or they even got somebody who could pass for him in a crappy photo and took it their back yard."

"Take a closer look, gentlemen," Miles said. "And tell me one reason why this couldn't be someone else."

"Let me see that!" Yoki, whom nobody had even noticed had followed them in, snatched the paper from Heinkel's hand and peered at it carefully. He looked up at Scar, then back at the picture. After a few moments, he shook his head. "If this was a lookalike, how would anyone outside Ishval know he'd grown a ponytail?"

Darius and Heinkel bent down to squint over Yoki's shoulders. Darius clapped him on the back, causing him to stagger forward. "I'll be damned, Fuzzy Lip! You could be right!"

Yoki drew himself up haughtily. "I'm not the clown you think I am!"

"Ain't that the truth?" Heinkel muttered.

"We could stand here and speculate until the sun goes down for the last time," Scar said with gruff impatience. He gestured to the clipping. "If this paper has the reputation you say it has, then I don't intend to worry about it."

"Well, I can't afford to not worry about it," Miles replied curtly. "If you're going to officially come back to life, it would be better if it were under controlled circumstances. Like a formal pardon." Scar let out a derisive snort and Miles gave a slight, grim smile. "Yeah, I know. So while we're all growing old waiting for that to happen, I'm doubling sentries. Not just to protect you," he added.

"Which isn't necessary," Scar told him.

Miles waved away the comment. "I just don't like the idea of someone deliberately sneaking in and out of Ishval."

Scar shrugged. "Do what you need to do, Miles."

"If there's anything you need us to do," Darius said, "just let us know."

"Thank you, gentlemen," Miles replied, sliding the clipping back into the envelope. "For now, just keep an eye peeled for anybody with a camera."

"Don't you worry, Colonel." Heinkel tapped his nose. "I can smell a reporter a mile away."

_____________________________________________________________

Scar considered the anxious, dubious expressions on the faces of the women before him. To be more specific, Rada looked anxious, Winry was dubious.

"I'd have thought you'd be more concerned about keeping a low profile," she remarked. "You used to be pretty good at it." Her expression quickly turned rueful and she glanced at Rada. "Sorry! I mean—"

Rada smiled and patted her arm, although she looked a little distracted. "It's all right."

"What I was good at was not getting caught," Scar said. "I wasn't really concerned about how low or high my profile was."

Winry gave a little shrug. "I'm just saying…"

"I still don't like this, Andakar," Rada said. "I think we shouldn't go tomorrow. We can stay home and have a picnic in the garden. Or maybe we should just wait."

"For how long, my love?" Scar took her hands and gave them a reassuring squeeze. "It's only one questionable photograph in a an even more questionable paper. I'm not going to let it unsettle my family. You've been looking forward to this all week, and so has Danika. We'll go down to the river tomorrow, have our picnic, then we'll go to the circus in the evening."

Both Rada and Winry opened their mouths to protest, but Scar held up his hand. "If it's any consolation, Miles is doubling his border guards." He looked solemnly from one woman to the other. "Just as I've said, I refuse to jump at shadows again, and I refuse to ever again live like I'm being hunted."

_____________________________________________________________

"This is a pleasant surprise, General!"

"Maybe it is, maybe it isn't."

Miles could hear the curl of General Armstrong's lip as she spoke. She would probably hear the apprehension in his voice. "Ma'am?"

"Something came across my desk just a little while ago," Olivier went on. "I don't expect this is your sort of reading material, but I was wondering if you've seen the latest issue of one of those stinking tabloids. What's this thing called?" she muttered.

Miles could hear the rustle of paper. He groaned quietly. " _The Delver_?"

"So it is. Someone around here saw fit to actually pay money for it, and it's been floating around the fort for a couple of days before it was brought to my attention. Personally, I wouldn't even use it for toilet paper."

"It was brought to my attention as well," Miles replied. "By special courier from General Mustang."

"Speaking of asswipes…" Olivier muttered.

Miles allowed himself a smile. "There's been some debate as to whether we should take it seriously. Mustang certainly seems to think so, but my adjutant doesn't."

"Well, this photo sure looks dicey." There was a momentary pause. "What's with the ponytail? Does he figure it looks so good on you?"

"There are some things he just doesn't explain to me. But if it wasn't for that, I would be inclined to dismiss the whole thing as a hoax."

"Mm…" In the radio room of her citadel, Olivier narrowed her eyes at the paper before her. "Then again, this is _The Delver_. It's the lowest of the low, journalistically speaking. I got that straight from Karley, whose father runs one of the local newspapers. That, of course, is coming from someone who knows how to tie their own shoes and doesn't have to count on their fingers. I can't speak for the general public, many of whom are drooling morons."

"That's just it, General!" Miles replied, somewhat exasperated. "And on top of that, Andakar, of all people, is all for dismissing it."

"Being someone who can tie his own shoes and add in his head."

Miles let out a long, weary breath. "I daresay he can. I'm still doubling my sentries."

"Would you like me to send down a tank?" Olivier suggested.

"I appreciate the offer, ma'am, but I don't think it'll come to that. Besides, it wouldn't look good if we rolled over reporters with tanks."

"It would _feel_ good. Oh, come on, Miles! It's been too quiet up here!"

"I take it Shua hasn't been up there for a while."

Olivier sighed, and Miles could hear a touch of wistfulness. "No, but he said he'd be up as soon as they got some bill through and stopped wasting taxpayers' money. But I'm serious, Miles! You just give the word and I'm there. I've got your back, come hell or high water. You know that."

"I do indeed, ma'am." Miles grinned. He felt better already.


	11. Chapter 11

Edward shifted his grip on the handle of his suitcase and scowled at the single passenger car. It was connected almost as an afterthought to a freight train that would soon be pulling out of Central Station and heading to Ishval. So far, nothing about this sudden disruption in his plans boded well.

Just the previous morning, he was sitting at breakfast with his host, Professor Abercrombie, an eminent scholar of alchemy, when one of his daughters—the ditzy one—let out a loud squeal. This was met with the professor's usual roll of the eyes. His middle daughter's head was stuffed with celebrity gossip and other related nonsense. This particular morning, she was glued to the pages of one of her favorite gossip sheets called _The Delver_ (or as her father liked to call it, _The Nosepicker_ ). This time, however, the news was not about the latest escapades of one of the current matinee idols, but about someone who had, until now, avoided notoriety.

Bettina hopped up from her seat and ran to her father's chair at the head of the table. She shoved the paper into his face.

" _Look_ , Pop!" she practically shrieked. "Would you believe it?"

The professor let out a sigh of long-suffering patience and gently pushed the girl's hands down. "I'm right here, Betty," he said in a kind but firm tone. "I have an advanced degree, but I'm not of advanced years. I'm neither blind nor deaf. And to answer your question, no, I probably wouldn't believe it."

Bettina gave a little stomp of her feet. "But Pop—"

"Betty, please, I'm not—"

Ed caught a glance of the paper and nearly had to spit his coffee back into his cup. "Wait! Let me see that!" he cried, thrusting out his hand.

Both the professor and his daughter gave a start and turned to stare at him. Bettina recovered first and scooted quickly around her father's chair.

She held out the paper. "See? I'll bet you'd want to know about this!"

Ed took the paper from her and stared at the two pictures. He hadn't been prepared for it. His heart pounded and his stomach tied into a cold knot, simply out of habit. He quickly scanned the article, which was of very little use, being mostly concerned with the photographer's exploits and some vague speculations. The picture of the wanted poster was of little consequence other than to stir people's memories. The somewhat muddled photo beside it was a different story. Ed would never forget that profile or that bearing, no matter how bad the quality of the reproduction. The caption echoed what was ringing through his head. _**Is this Scar?**_ Ed had no doubt.

He stood up. "Can I use your telephone, Professor?"

"Yes, of course, Edward," the professor replied, a little perplexed. "Use the one in my office."

"Thanks! Excuse me!" Ed said quickly and left for the office.

He let the phone ring at least a dozen times before it was picked up.

"Rockbell Automail!" Pinako's slightly harried voice announced. "This had better be good!"

"Granny! It's Ed!"

"Oh! Dear Lord, Ed!" Pinako tempered the grouchiness of her tone. She chuckled a little. "You caught me in the middle of chasing the biggest pack rat I've ever seen out of the tool shed. Den nearly caught it, but it was a little too fast—"

"That's great, Granny!" Ed cut in. "Can I talk to Winry?"

"Well, not unless I can put this phone on a train or you can make your voice carry across the country."

Ed stared blankly at the telephone, the knot in his stomach pulling tighter. "What?"

"She caught that wandering spirit from you boys and she took herself a holiday," Pinako explained.

"She…she's not there? Did she go back to Rush Valley?"

"Nope. She's gone off to Ishval, of all places."

Ed's mouth fell open but nothing came out for a few moments. Finally, he cried out, " _Ishval?_ "

"Dang it, Ed! Don't shout!"

"When did she leave?" Ed demanded.

"Oh, I'd say about three weeks ago now."

" _Three_ —" Ed thrust his fingers into his hair and tried to collect his frantic thoughts. He forced himself to calm down. "Is she okay?"

"Well, she sent me a couple of post cards just after she got there, saying she'd met up with some folks she knew and she'd found a place to stay," Pinako replied. "She also said they didn't have telephones out there yet, but she'd write me again as soon as she could. I haven't gotten anything from her since, so she must be too busy having a good time."

"Or she's—" Ed clamped his mouth closed. He didn't want Pinako to worry. He wasn't even sure why he was so desperately worried himself. It was just a gut feeling. "Yeah. Maybe you're right."

"What was it you needed her for?" Pinako gave another chuckle. "Are you getting ready to set a date?"

"Uh…no…I just…needed some maintenance on my leg," Ed replied. It was sort of true. His leg was feeling a little stiff, and he had been neglecting it lately.

"Then why don't you just go on out there," Pinako suggested. "I'm sure she'd be glad to see you."

Ed's features set with grim determination. "Yeah. I think I'll do that."

The next day he stood in the train station in Central City with a train ticket in his hand that he was lucky to get. The clerk at the ticket window had informed him that the fellow just before him had bought the last ticket for that day's train to Ishval. Normally, he was told, he could pretty much have his pick of any seat on the train, not that any of them were better than any other. After two years they ought to have put on a newer car or—

Ed had to stop the man in mid-ramble. "Look, I really have to get to Ishval as soon as possible! It's…a family emergency!"

The clerk pushed his cap forward and scratched his head. "I dunno…there's regulations, you see…"

This wasn't something he liked to do much anymore, since his alchemy was now strictly theoretical, but he pulled out his silver pocket watch. He thrust it in the clerk's face. "Listen! I'm a state alchemist and I need to head off a national crisis! I don't care if I have to stand! You have to let me on that train!"

The clerk stared at the watch and dithered for a moment. "Oh…well…I guess…I suppose…if it's that important…"

"It is!" Edward pocketed his watch. "You'd be performing an act of patriotism."

The clerk gave a nod. "All right then, young man." He stamped a ticket and handed it to Ed. "But if you get injured because you're not properly seated, don't sue the railroad and don't blame me."

Ed handed him several bills. "I'll take my chances."

From outside, the car already looked full beyond its capacity, but Ed strode forward and mounted the steps. Inside, the train was packed with men and a few women in a variety of attire; some wore suits, either rumpled or stylish, some wore hiking outfits and stout shoes, some were simply dressed casually. Many of them had cameras either around their necks or in cases hanging from their shoulders. Others had fat, well-thumbed notebooks in their hands. They all jostled with each other to get suitcases up on the luggage racks or to get into seats and the noise level was high. There were also very few seats left and several of the passengers were already making for them.

Ed lost no further time and he quickly squeezed between two men who stood in the middle of the aisle discussing camera lenses. Just behind them was an empty spot on a seat next to a fellow who was dozing off, his hat over his face. Ed slung his suitcase onto the overhead rack and slipped onto the seat, closing his eyes and letting out a deep sigh of relief.

His feeling of relief was short-lived, or at best, tainted by returning memories. His dealings with Scar had started out as pretty straightforward. They hated each other guts. Scar had made it his single-minded mission to kill him, and although Ed had no desire either kill anyone or see them get killed, he had certainly wanted Scar caught and brought to justice. What they did with him after that he didn't really want to know. Once it was discovered that they had a common goal, however, their relationship became less and less straightforward. They became allies who would gladly see each other's backs once their goal was achieved.

What really complicated things was Winry. Ed could eventually get over someone trying to kill him over what could possibly be considered a misunderstanding. But what Scar did to Winry and her family was unforgivable. Maybe Uncle Urey and Aunt Sarah knew what they were getting into. Maybe they anticipated possibly getting caught in the crossfire. But for them to be killed by one of their own patients spoke of an evil mind at worst, an unbalanced mind at best.

Maybe Winry had finally come to terms with her grief. Maybe finally being able to confront Scar was the closure she needed, even though that bastard's reply to her was evasive and half-assed. If they hadn't ended up needing him so badly, Ed would have been just as happy if he had bled to death. He stirred uncomfortably in his seat and rubbed his forehead. He would _like_ to _think_ he would be just as happy. Then again, he didn't even want to see Kimblee get shot. When it was suggested that Scar had died during the final battle, Ed's mind clamped onto that idea as an entirely fitting conclusion. The Ishvalan had given his life to save the people he hated. Ed could totally live with that.

Now it was possible that the man was still alive. Ed would never again be easy in his mind unless he found out if this was true. But if it was, what then?

"Hey, kid! What rag are you from?"

Ed opened his eyes and looked around, frowning. He realized the man sitting across from him was regarding him with mild interest.

"Sorry?"

The man looked slightly bored, slightly amused. "I said what paper are you from? I've been in this business for years, and you don't look familiar." He jerked his chin in Ed's direction. "I didn't think any editor would send a cub on a story like this."

Ed shook his head. "I'm not from a paper."

The man's brows rose. His neighbor sat up and took notice of him. "What? You're going out to Isvhal for fun?"

"No." Ed scowled a little. "I'm going for personal reasons."

The dozing man next to Ed pushed his hat up and turned in his seat to get a better look at Ed's face. He poked his finger at him. "Hey! I know you! You're…aw, damn!" He snapped his fingers a couple of times, then grinned, pointing at Ed again. "You're that Elric kid! The watchacallit Alchemist!"

"Fullmetal!" the man across from him said, eyeing Ed with interest. "I'll say you've got personal reasons, but they're probably the same as ours." He pulled a notebook and a pencil out of his coat pocket. "I'll bet you're going out to see if you can get a gander at that Scar fellow." He opened up the notebook, his pencil poised over it. "You've had a few scraps with him, as I recall. Do you see this as a way to even the score?"

The other reporters had eagerly flipped their notebooks open. "Are you on a personal crusade to see that justice is finally done?" one of them demanded.

"Are you going out there to beat the crap out of him?" the other wanted to know.

Ed stared at them with disbelief and a growing feeling of loathing. There was a time when he rather liked being a media darling and the center of attention, but that was back in more innocent days. On top of the burden of grief he had already been carrying, he had since learned things he wished he could forget. Ultimately, events had turned out for the best. They had won. He supposed he could be considered a hero for the part he played. Then again, he had to admit, so could Scar. Whatever lay between the two of them was strictly between the two of them.

Then there was still Winry, and the last thing Ed wanted to do was get into that with these rabid newshounds.

He sat back in his seat with his arms stubbornly folded and gave the men his best forbidding look. "No comment!"

The trip was torture. After a few more attempts to get him to talk, the reporters finally dismissed him as useless, a feeling that was entirely mutual. Matters were made worse when the train stopped in Resembool to take on more freight. Many of the reporters, who appeared to all be big city types, made a number of disparaging comments about what a dumpy little backwater the place was. A few crude comments were made about sheep and those who kept them, which caused a great deal of hilarity. Ed was hard pressed to keep his mouth shut.

It was nearly noon when the train finally pulled into Ishval station. If the reporters thought Resembool was a backwater, the remoteness of Ishval rendered many of them momentarily quiet. The veterans among them who had covered the war here were grimly silent as well, but for their own reasons.

The train pulled to a stop with a loud hiss, and the passengers began to scramble for their belongings and to exit the train. Being considered dead weight by now, Ed was jostled, elbowed, jabbed, and nearly knocked to the floor, where he could easily see himself getting trampled. He started jostling and shoving right back and managed to get his suitcase and climb down from the train without getting killed.

The arrivals were met by a mixed group of soldiers and Ishvalans, all of whom stared back at them with astonishment. The reporters quickly began going about their business. The photographers started snapping pictures and the reporters advanced on the inhabitants, firing out questions and waving copies of _The Delver_.

"Have you seen this man?"

"Is it true that Scar is alive and well and living in Ishval?"

"Is he being harbored here as a fugitive?"

Before anyone could stammer out a reply, one of the soldiers, a corporal, raised his voice. "Excuse me, gentlemen!" he called out over the clamor. "We're here to get this train unloaded and it's on a schedule, so if you wouldn't mind, would you get out of the way and let us do our jobs? Thanks!"

Taking their cue from the corporal, the soldiers and Ishvalans set about transferring freight from the train to the waiting transport trucks, some of them even elbowing the reporters out of the way. Some of them obligingly took a moment to glance at the photo in The Delver, but they shook their heads and went back to their work.

Ed skirted around the work crews and the reporters, who were darting about like bees, and he looked around to get his bearings. The station seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, but off in the distance, he could see a rather incongruous sight. He was sure he could see a group of red and white striped circus tents, their top pennants rippling in the desert wind. While he stood squinting at this sight and wondering if it was some sort of mirage, he felt a hand drop onto his shoulder.

"Geez, Fullmetal! What the hell are you doing here?"

Ed jumped and spun around to find himself facing Jean Havoc. The shock of seeing a familiar face left him speechless for a moment. Then he managed a stammer. "I…I'm…what…what are you doing here?"

"Me?" the blond ex-soldier grinned. "I live here! I run a shop in Kanda!" He gave Ed's shoulder a good-natured shove. "I even got married! Can you believe it?" His grin faded and he looked around at the mob of reporters. "What a bunch of vultures!" he muttered. He looked back at Ed. "You came in with those guys?"

"I didn't have much choice," Ed replied. He gripped Havoc's arm and met his eyes grimly. Lowering his voice, he muttered, "Is it true?"

"Hey, you there!" One of the reports strode up to where they stood, and he was soon followed by others. The first one held out his copy of The Delver in a frustrated gesture. "Have you seen this guy?" he demanded.

"Hmm, well, let me get a closer look at that!" Havoc took the paper and frowned with concentration at it. He turned it at an angle and tilted his head in the opposite direction. "Damn, what a mug!" he remarked.

"Tell me about it!" the reporter snapped back. "Have you seen him?"

"Seen who?" Havoc replied distractedly, now covering one eye while squinting at the paper with the other.

The reported jabbed his finger on the grainy photograph. " _This_ guy, you moron!" he practically shouted. "Scar! The Alchemist Killer! Whoever took this says they saw him here!"

Havoc turned the paper over to look at the front page. He let out a loud laugh. "Aw, geez! You actually read this thing? I wouldn't even use this in the latrine!" He handed the paper back. "Sorry, fellas. Can't help you." He turned back to Ed. "Tell you what. You help me get my stock loaded and I'll give you a lift into town."

On hearing this, the reporters seemed to suddenly realize that they had a fresh dilemma. "Hey, buddy!" one of them called to Havoc. "Can I hitch a ride with you?"

"Yeah! Me, too!" another one joined in. "I'll make it worth your while!"

Havoc waved his hand as he pushed past them toward the train. "Sorry, no can do! I've got a government contract and I can't take on civilian passengers. Too many liability issues."

Another reporter pointed at Ed. "You're giving him a ride!"

"That's because he's a State Alchemist," Havoc shot back. He looked over his shoulder and nodded to Ed. "Show 'em your watch!"

Ed groaned inwardly and pulled his silver watch out of his pocket, dangling it from his fingers. Havoc jerked his head toward it. "See that? That allows him to commandeer supplies and transport." He shrugged his shoulders helplessly. "Sorry, but I have no choice. Come on, Ed. Let's get cracking!"

Havoc strode purposefully away toward the train while the rest of the reporters started to make attempts to cadge rides from the soldiers. Their efforts were just as fruitless. Ed caught up with Havoc and kept close to his side. "Answer my question!" he hissed.

"Not now!" Havoc whispered back. In a loud cheerful voice he went on. "It's great to see you again, Fullmetal! You're gonna like it here! The food's great and the women are gorgeous! Of course, I ought to warn you that my little bride is way up at the top as far as looks are concerned. And she's got a great head for figures, too. She just jumped right in and started keeping my books for me. And speaking of figures" –he let out a long whistle—"hers just doesn't quit! You're really gonna like her, but keep your hands to yourself!"

While Havoc was rambling on, he started shoving boxes into Ed's arms, which he had to juggle with his suitcase. Havoc kept a stream of general but carefully evasive conversation going as they went back and forth from the train to his truck, and Ed couldn't help noticing how quickly the man was working. He decided he would have to follow suit for now, as much as the former lieutenant's behavior left him bewildered.

Finally, they both climbed into the cab and Havoc started up the engine. As they drove away, Ed turned to him with the intent of demanding information, but Havoc took the microphone from a bulky radio that sat on the seat between them. He flipped a couple of switches and held the microphone to his mouth.

"Silver Hawk One, this is Blondie. Do you copy? Over!"

The radio crackled for a moment, then a voice came out of the small speaker. "This is Silver Hawk One. Go ahead, Blondie."

"Inform the colonel that we've got a whole trainload of newspaper guys converging on God's Own Country."

There were a few moments of just static. Then the voice spoke again. "Newspaper guys? Reporters?"

"That's what I said. The colonel might want to get a welcoming committee together or something."

"Understood!"

Havoc replaced the microphone onto its holder and increased his speed. He glanced over at Ed, who was giving him a golden-eyed glare.

"What's on your mind, Fullmetal?" he asked cheerfully.

"Would you please explain to me what the hell is going on here?" Ed growled, his words slow and deliberate.

"Oh, yeah. That." Havoc brightened. "Oh, by the way, your girl has been making quite a name for herself here. You'd really be proud of her."

Ed realized with a flush of shame that he had nearly forgotten about Winry. "Oh, shit!" he gasped. "Is she okay?"

Havoc grimaced at him. "Of course she's okay! Why wouldn't she be okay?"

Ed clutched at his head. "Because…because if Scar's still alive and if he's here then she's gonna be…she's gonna be…"

"Miffed?" Havoc suggested as Ed struggled to communicate.

" _Is it true?_ "

Havoc winced and jerked his head away. "For cryin' out loud, Ed! I'm right here! Geez!"

Ed punched him in the arm. "God _damn_ it! Answer my question!"

"Yes! Yes! It's true! Okay?" Havoc frowned at him. "And don't hit me."

"Why didn't anybody tell me?" Ed demanded furiously.

"I dunno. It sure wasn't my call. You'll have to ask the brigadier. Or you can ask the man himself."

"Ask the—" Ed sat back in his seat and shook his head. "So he's really alive?"

"Didn't I just say that?"

Ed scowled dismissively. "And that's…" He suddenly sat up and stared out through the windshield as they passed closer to the tents he had seen in the distance. "Are those…is that a…"

"Circus? Yup," Havoc replied. He laughed and shook his head. "You know, if it wasn't for those lousy reporters, I'd really be looking forward to all this!"


	12. Chapter 12

As they got closer to "town", as Havoc referred to the inhabited area of Ishval, they spotted a couple of mounted soldiers riding at a slow canter toward them along the side of the dirt road. Havoc slowed to a stop and leaned out of his window.

The soldiers pulled up on the reins as they came alongside the truck. "What's up, Havoc?" one of them asked with a nod of greeting. "And who's your friend?" The second question sounded casual enough, but Ed detected a heightened tone of awareness.

"It's okay, he's a friendly," Havoc replied.

"Oh, I am, huh?"

"Mostly," Havoc told the soldier with an apologetic roll of his eyes. "I'll vouch for him. This is Edward Elric, better known as the Fullmetal Alchemist. And for the record, he has no connection to the rest of the bunch that just came in on the train."

The soldier frowned and looked back down the road. "What bunch?"

"Reporters. A whole…I dunno…a swarm, I guess you could call 'em. Kind of like locusts."

The soldier tightened his hold on his horse's reins. "Damn!" he muttered. "We need to get back and tell the colonel."

"I already radioed the fort," Havoc said. "You guys probably want to keep an eye out for when they come limping this way. They weren't getting any rides, free or otherwise."

The soldier gave a half-grin. "Sure. We'll roll out the welcome mat."

Havoc let out an unsympathetic chuckle. "You do that." He drove on toward the outer edge of the buildings, then turned at a sign that said motor vehicle traffic with an arrow pointing to the left. He proceeded down a wide alley lined on both sides with a low wall. On the other side of the wall were buildings, clotheslines, trees, and people going about their business. Havoc explained how cars and trucks had to keep to specified areas. Ed would normally be very interested in a set of new surroundings, but he felt the need to sulk.

"So _I'm_ a friendly!" he muttered after a time. "You'll _vouch_ for me! That's just great! You know, it wasn't like I asked for a medal or anything, but come on!"

Havoc shrugged. "Sorry, chief. Here in Ishval, we look out for our own."

" _Your_ own?" Ed gave him an incredulous glare. "You're not Ishvalan!"

"Well, no, not to look at," Havoc admitted. "But I live here and I married an Ishvalan girl and I act proper, mostly, so I'm sort of Ishvalan by…uh…absorbtion." Havoc laughed quietly to himself. "That's good! I'll have to tell Eyla that one. She'll get a kick out of that."

"I'm getting ready to kick you any minute!" Ed snapped. "And I'll use my automail leg! How did Scar get here?"

"I think the colonel drove him here." Havoc thought for a moment. "Back when he was still a major, I mean."

"You're talking about Major Miles?"

" _Colonel_ Miles," Havoc corrected him with a nod. "Commander of what could potentially be one of the fiercest garrisons in Amestris once they get enough manpower and they all get over the fever and get used to the heat."

"Fever? What fever?"

Havoc waved his hand. "Don't worry about it. The season's over."

"Great. So why isn't Scar dead?"

"I dunno. I guess 'cause he didn't die. Now, let me see…" Havoc murmured to himself, apparently done talking to Ed. "I could send one of the pullers over to the—aw dang!" He thumped the steering wheel. "School's out today! Crap!" He frowned at the road in front of them. "So where would—"

"What the hell are you mumbling about?" Ed asked irritably.

"Pipe down, will ya? I'm trying to think!"

Ed folded his arms and scowled out his window. "Don't hurt yourself," he muttered sourly.

Havoc gave him a dark sidelong look. "Hey, you know what—"

"You said Winry was okay!" Ed went on abruptly. "Where is she? Her grandmother said she'd found a place to stay."

Havoc smiled slightly to himself. "Oh, heck, yeah!" he replied. "She finagled herself an invite to the home of none other than his honor the provincial governor of Ishval!"

Ed blinked. "Really? The governor?"

"Uh-huh. Although around here he's called the _khorovar_. He is _the_ man here in Ishval. Then again, Winry's a bit of a celebrity around here herself." Havoc grinned. "The governor and his family have practically adopted her. Everybody loves her!"

"Huh!" Ed had to smile. "Yeah, that happens. But she really ought to send a letter or something to her granny to let her know she's okay."

"Oh, well, she's been a busy girl," Havoc explained. "She made this one old guy a fake arm practically from scratch. And of course," he added with a bit of a wicked curl to his smile, "she's busy fending off all her admirers."

Ed shot him a look of alarm. "Her what?"

"Ad-mi-r-ers," Havoc repeated slowly. "Boyfriends. Suitors. A whole string of 'em."

"What?"

"But don't worry," Havoc assured him. "The governor 's been keeping a real good eye on her." He held up two fingers, one crossed over the other. "They're like that, you know?"

"Uh…yeah…" Ed frowned and was silent for a moment, but then sat up. "But what about Scar? Where does he fit into all this?"

"Pretty much wherever he wants." Havoc leaned forward a little and peered at a figure crossing the road ahead of them. He suddenly hit the brakes, flinging Ed forward to bounce off the dashboard. While he clutched his head and cursed ferociously, Havoc leaned out of the driver's window.

"Hey, Stoyan!" he called. "You're just the man I wanna see!"

The figure walked up to the driver's side of the truck. He was a tall young man with a somewhat solemn demeanor. " _Zhaarad_ Jean!" he greeted Havoc. "How can I help you?"

"Any idea where the big guy is?" Havoc asked him.

" _Zhaarad_ Andakar? He went down to the river with his family and _Zhaarana_ Winry."

"Winry?" Still rubbing his forehead, Ed glared narrowly at the young Ishvalan.

Stoyan frowned questioningly back at him and Havoc gave a nod toward Ed. "Stoyan Dimitar, Edward Elric. Ed, Stoyan." He looked over at Ed. "Stoyan is the governor's secretary."

"Nice to meet you," Ed said, a little distractedly.

"Likewise," Stoyan replied, although something in his tone and the slight hesitation before he spoke, not to mention the not entirely friendly look in his red eyes, gave Ed the impression that Stoyan didn't quite mean what he said. He'd never even seen this guy before. Maybe it was just an Ishvalan thing.

"So," Ed said. "Winry's off somewhere with the governor and his family?"

"Sounds like it." Havoc turned back to Stoyan. "They're probably at one of the sandy beaches just below Kanda, huh? Good picnic spot."

Stoyan nodded. "I expect so. What did you need him for?"

"A whole crowd of reporters came in on this morning's train," Havoc explained somberly. "He needs to know about it."

A look of alarm crossed Stoyan's face then settled into a look of determination. "Do you need me to find him?"

"No, I'll get there faster in the truck," Havoc said. "I already notified the fort. You start getting the word spread in town."

Stoyan gave a quick nod. "Right."

He stepped away from the truck and Havoc shifted into first and sped forward. Ed sat back in his seat and watched the reflection of Stoyan's retreating form in the wing mirror.

"Does that guy just not like strangers or something?" he asked.

Havoc shrugged. "Stoyan's okay. He's just the cautious type."

"Suspicious, more like." Ed threw up his hands. "Everybody's looking at _me_ funny and it seems like they're all trying to cover up for Scar! I don't get it!"

"Well, once we find Winry and the governor, maybe they'll explain it to you," Havoc told him, picking up speed and shifting into fourth. "'Cause frankly, you're getting up my nose."

A cloud of dust billowed behind the truck as it rolled through lush fields of green. While Havoc drove, Ed sat sulking. He didn't notice the blond ex-soldier stealing amused glances at him, and he paid only minimal attention to the few comments Havoc made about occasional points of interest. There were only two things on his mind at the moment. Finding Winry and then finding Scar, because none of this was making any sense.

The fields of crops thinned out and stopped and they continued on along a road lined on one side with cottonwood trees and scrubby desert vegetation on the other. At one point, Havoc turned off the road and slowed to a stop alongside a stand of trees and stopped the engine. Without a word, Ed pushed the door open and jumped out. Havoc got down from the driver's side a little more sedately and let Ed go on ahead, but not too far. He wanted to see this.

Ed's automail leg had been sporadically acting up for a few weeks, and he jogged stiffly through a stand of trees whose leaves quivered and rustled in the breeze. Below to his left he could see sunlight glinting off the river and the gentle rushing of the water. It was a peaceful sound, but Ed's mind was in turmoil. His need to find Winry began to grow more and more urgent. Maybe he should never have left Resembool. Maybe he should have taken her with him. He kept meaning to call, but then he would come across one more fascinating lead or meet one more learned scholar or get into one more lively discussion. All he'd been thinking about was himself. He felt like he'd abandoned Winry, and now she had gone off on her own. Sure, she'd done so before, but now there was an almost irrational feeling of peril about this whole situation.

Because Scar was alive. Ed felt betrayed. He'd been lied to. It was one raw spot in his and Winry's lives that he thought could finally heal and now it had been opened again. Winry was here, facing it without him. He quickened his pace as well as he could. There was definitely something wrong with his leg. Well, that would serve him right, wouldn't it?

He paused. Over the rustle of leaves and the rushing of water, he could suddenly hear another sound just ahead and below to his left. There was the sound of splashing and then a woman's indignant shriek.

" _No!_ No, you _don't! A-ah!_ Put me _down!_ "

His heart pounding furiously, Ed darted to his left toward the river. He burst through a line of trees and found himself teetering at the edge of a sandy slope. The knee joint of his automail leg decided to take that moment to seize up, and he tumbled down, somersaulting down the bank and ending up on his back. By this time, the woman's cries had turned into giggling, and her laughter was joined by that of a man's. Ed ventured to lift his head and look up.

Standing just a few yards away from him, knee-deep in the river, was Scar. He had an Ishvalan woman slung over his shoulder, her long silvery-white hair hanging down behind him and her bare feet dripping in front of him. The two of them went quiet and stared back at him.

"Oh!" the woman said, finally breaking the tense silence. "Andakar, sweetheart, is that who I think it is?"

Scar, his gaze not wavering from Ed's face, nodded. "It is, indeed."

"Well, would you put me down, then?"

"Oh. Yes, of course." Scar stepped forward to the edge of the water and lowered the woman's feet onto the sand. He straightened up and turned to consider Ed for a moment, then he stepped up onto the bank. Ed still couldn't bend his left knee and he felt a rush of panic. Here he was, once again lying helpless on the ground, and Scar was standing over him. He struggled to raise himself up on his elbows and crawl backwards, the heel of his good foot digging frantically into the sand and his automail leg dragging uselessly along beside it.

Scar leaned down and held out his hand. "Be at peace, Fullmetal."

Ed pulled his eyes away from Scar's with an effort and he frowned for a moment at the offered hand.

"Well?" Scar watched him with a somewhat amused expression. "On your feet, Edward Elric. Winry said you've gotten taller. I want to see for myself."

Ed's eyes flicked back to Scar's at hearing Winry's name, as well as what he took as a hint of a challenge in the Ishvalan's voice. After a moment of hesitation, he reached out and grasped Scar's hand, pushing himself up awkwardly. Scar took hold of his elbow and pulled him upright, using his stiffened leg as a lever. Once Ed was steady on his feet, Scar took a step back and looked him up and down. He gave a nod of approval.

"Alphonse may still have an inch or two on you, but I'm impressed," he remarked.

Ed's eyes widened. "Alphonse? When—"

"Good work, Ed!" Havoc called from the top of the bank. "You found him! That was a time saver!" He hopped down to the sandy bank and stepped up to Scar. "I hate to rain on your picnic, but we have a situation."

Scar focused on him sharply. "What sort of situation?"

"It looks like that photo in The Delver had a bigger impact than anyone expected. The train pulled into Ishval station a while ago with a load of reporters and they're all heading this way."

The woman drew in a gasp and covered her mouth, her eyes wide with alarm. "Oh, no!" she cried from behind her hands. She turned to Scar with an exasperated look. "This is just what I was afraid would happen! But so soon?" She looked helplessly at Havoc. "Where are they now? Are they in town already?"

"Not yet," Havoc told her. "They were heading out from the station on foot when we left. We've got a little leeway, but not much. You need to gather up the kids and get back before the you-know-what hits the fan." He nodded up at the line of trees above them. "We'll pile everybody in my truck and get you home."

"Thank you, Jean!" The woman grabbed Scar's arm and fiercely pulled him along with her. "Come on, Andakar!"

Scar regained his balance and joined her at her side. "Yes, my love, I'm coming."

The woman looked back at Ed. "Edward! Don't just stand there!" she said briskly. "Come and help carry something!"

"Huh?" Ed stared at her. "Oh…uh…yeah…" She was a petite woman, but her sudden authoritative tone was one that would not be argued with. Ed knew enough headstrong women to recognize it. He started limping after them, then he stopped. "Hey, wait! Winry! Where is she? She's supposed to be somewhere around here with the governor of Ishval!"

Scar looked back over his shoulder at him. "That," he said, a little wearily, "would be me."

Ed stared at the retreating backs in such utter confusion that it seemed like his right leg had stopped working as well. Scar glanced back at him, shook his head, and bent down to say something to the woman. She gave a curt reply and hurried on ahead as Scar turned back.

"Is something wrong, Fullmetal?" he asked.

Ed spread out his arms. "Wrong?" he cried frantically. "Wrong? Everything's wrong! Next thing you know, it'll be snowing!"

Scar stopped in front of him. "I'll admit, the circumstances you've come across are no doubt confusing to you, but that does not make them wrong." He nodded to Ed's leg. "Are you having trouble with that?"

"Uh…yeah…among other things!"

"Do you need me to carry you?"

"No!" Ed glared up at the Ishvalan. "I can manage, thank you!"

"Well, then, let's get moving." Scar turned around and continued on his way.

Ed limped hurriedly after him. "You could wait up a little!"

Scar slowed his long strides. "It's a good thing Winry's here. She'll be able to fix that for you."

"Yeah, Winry's here!" Ed snapped back.

Scar nodded. "Yes. She's just ahead with the children."

"And you're here!"

"Your mind is still as razor sharp as ever."

"Get stuffed! How did you get to be governor?"

"By means of the democratic process of this enlightened country."

"But everybody thinks you're still dead!"

"Not everybody."

"Okay. Mustang knows, apparently!" Ed growled. "What about Fuhrer Grumman? Does he know?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's a big fat damn relief! Nobody saw fit to tell me!"

Scar gave a slight shrug. "Well, now you know."

"But you're still trying to keep it a secret!"

"For now. For my own part, I don't really care," Scar said. "But it would complicate things politically."

"Oh, I get it!" Ed nodded. "It would make the higher-ups look bad, huh?"

"It could also jeopardize the restoration of Ishval by undermining public support of the project. It could also damage the perception Amestrians have of Ishvalans that we've been working so hard to improve."

"Then why didn't you just…I don't know…disappear? Or just find a quiet little corner of Ishval to live?" Ed asked. "Why the hell did you go into politics, of all things! Talk about public!"

"Because my people chose me," Scar replied. He thought for a moment, then added, "I suppose I felt I would let them down if I didn't accept."

Ed gave him a knowing look. "Or you just didn't trust anybody else with the job."

Scar gave a grudging lift of his shoulders. "Perhaps."

"So what about Winry?" Ed went on. "What did—"

" _Ed!_ "

Ed halted at the sound of his name being shrieked. A moment later, he was knocked off his already unsteady legs and he landed on his back with a not inconsiderable weight on top of him. He would never tell her that, though.

Winry pushed herself up and gazed delightedly into his face. "You followed me here! Oh, Ed, that's so sweet!"

"Hey, you two!" Havoc called, shaking sand from a blanket. "There's no time for that sort of thing right now. Besides, there's little kids here!"

Winry suddenly looked embarrassed and a little alarmed. "Oh. Right." She scrambled to her feet and stood aside while waiting for Ed to get up.

He made a couple of attempts before he looked up at her sheepishly. "I'm…uh…having a little trouble."

Winry's delight disappeared. "What kind of trouble?" she demanded.

"Um…well…"

"His leg isn't working," Scar answered for him.

Ed shot him a sour look just as Winry dropped to her knees and roughly pulled up the leg of his pants to expose the automail limb. She ran her eyes expertly over it, then grasped the knee joint. She gave it a hard pull, but could only barely make it budge. She threw her hands up in the air.

"What have you done, Ed!" she cried. She bent down to take another close look. "It…it…it's totally _banjaxed_!"

Ed gave a weak chuckle. "Is that a technical term?"

Winry glared at him with furious exasperation. "You didn't listen to a word I said, did you? You haven't maintained this properly at all, have you?"

"Uh…"

"I can see you two are a match made in heaven," Scar remarked. He strode over to them and grasped Ed's arms and pulled him to his feet. 

"I'll pull the truck up over there," Havoc said, tucking the folded blanket under his arm and pointing to a gentle slope that curved up to the road above them. "Shake a leg there, Ed!" he called with a grin as he ran up the slope.

Brushing the sand off his overcoat, Ed took a look at his surroundings and the other people in them. Aside from Scar, Winry, and the Ishvalan woman, there was a little girl with the tawny skin of an Ishvalan, but with black hair and blue eyes. Those blue eyes were not only looking around at the adults with anxiety, they also looked rather familiar, along with the rest of her features. The remaining members of the party were two very small Ishvalan children who looked like they had just woken up. The woman was handing one of them over to Scar, who cradled the child gently in one arm, her head dropping on his shoulder. The woman bent down to pick up the other child and got him settled in Scar's other arm. Then she began to hurriedly put plates, cups, and bowls into a large basket.

"Edward!" she called, straightening up and holding out the basket. "Would you carry this please?"

"Oh, yeah, sure." Ed grasped the handle of the basket and the weight of it nearly knocked him off balance.

"Mama?" the dark-haired girl asked in an insistent tone, as though she'd already asked and hadn't received a satisfactory answer. "How come we gotta go home? We didn't get to stay very long!"

The woman let out a sigh. "Something has happened, sweetie."

"But what?" She turned pleadingly to Scar. "Papa!"

"Danika, mind your mother," Scar told her gently. He nodded toward a small embroidered blanket that was still on the ground. "Go pick up your sister's blanket." While the little girl trudged away, Scar turned to Ed. "By the way, Edward, this is my wife, Rada."

Ed shifted the basket to his right hand and looked at the woman in surprise. "Oh!" He almost blushed. He hadn't even made that connection. "It—it's nice to meet you!"

Despite her determined hurry, Rada managed to give him a pleasantly dimpled smile. "I'm so glad you finally came, Edward. I've heard so much about you!"

"Really?"

"Oh, yes!" Rada bent down and started throwing toys into another basket. "Danika, put that in here!"

"This is my daughter, Danika," Scar went on. "And these two are Mattas and Winry."

Ed turned to him with a surprised look. "Winry?" He suddenly realized how often he'd been saying that name today.

"Yes!" Winry said gleefully. "Isn't she darling! They named her after me!"

"After you?"

Winry gave a little roll of her eyes. "Yes, Ed. As in 'on purpose'." She giggled. "We all call her Little Winry now. They named their little boy after Andakar's brother. You know." She leaned closer to Ed. "The one with the notebook."

"Oh, that's—" Ed gave Scar a sudden, sharp look as the big Ishvalan walked past them toward the slope, carrying his twins. " _Andakar?_ That's your—"

"Yes," Scar replied simply. " _Doishteve na Ishval_ , Edward Elric."

They got everyone and everything up the slope to Havoc's truck, with Winry and Ed trailing behind. Winry had pulled Ed's arm over her shoulder and was hurrying him along. Havoc was up inside the back of the truck, giving Rada a hand up. She turned around and held out her arms and Scar handed her Little Winry.

"Hand me the little sport," Havoc said, holding his arms out for Mattas.

Scar passed his son up to Havoc, then bent down to lift Danika up into the truck. The little girl still had an anxious scowl on her face and she put her hands on Scar's broad shoulders. "Papa! Why do we have to go home? Is a bad thing happening?"

"No, little blackbird," Scar told her. "Something's happening, yes. But it's not a very bad thing. More like…an inconvenience."

"That's right," Havoc added easily. "A whole bunch of nosy folk want to come and poke around Ishval and take pictures. Once they're gone, everything's gonna be fine. Nothing to worry about, lil' bit!"

Danika still wasn't satisfied. "But what're they bein' nosy about? What kinda pictures do they wanna take?"

"They want to take pictures of Papa," Rada told her. "And you know he doesn't like having his picture taken."

"But Sergeant Major Benji took that picture of us that I have in my room and Papa didn't mind that."

"That's because it was just for us," Scar explained. He climbed up into the back of the truck, then turned and looked around. "Is that everything?"

"Just us," Winry said.

Havoc handed Mattas back to Scar and jumped down. "You two can ride up in the cab with me," he said to the two young Amestrians. "It's crowded enough back here with all my stock." He looked up into the back of the truck. "Stay up toward the front," he told Scar and his family. "And keep this tied up." He reached and pulled the canvas coverings down and he and Scar tied them securely. "Okay, folks! Let hit the road!"

After moving the radio onto the floor, Havoc and Winry managed to help Ed get up into the cab of the truck. Then they climbed up on either side of him and Havoc started up the engine.

"Here goes nothin'!" he announced, shifting into first.

As the truck set off, Winry gave Ed's leg an irritated look. "You're really lucky I brought some of my tools with me."

"You went on vacation and you took tools with you?" Ed shook his head. "What a gearhead!"

He had managed to use an affectionate tone, so Winry just gave him a nudge against his shoulder. "You're lucky I am, that's all I'm saying."

Ed took a deep breath and realized just how profoundly relieved he was. He put his arm around Winry and pulled her close. "I know I'm lucky."


	13. Chapter 13

Once Stoyan set it in motion, the news ran swiftly through the streets of Ishval. The blacksmith stepped across to the weaver and said a few words to her. The weaver went next door to the fruit seller and slipped it into her usual gossip. The fruit seller went over to flirt with the baker and whispered it in his ear. Stoyan went along from street to street, speaking to one or two people, and then moved on.

Bozidar, the chief cleric, watched Stoyan run back down the temple steps and head toward Kanda. The old man sighed deeply and turned to go back into the quiet dimness of the temple. Stepping up to the stone altar, he lifted his hands, closed his eyes, and prayed that someday, somehow, this sort of thing would no longer be necessary.

Atash trotted up to the entrance of Stanno's workshop just as his fellow puller Yoru came from the opposite end of the street.

" _Hai! Zhaarad_ Stanno!" Atash called. "Have you heard the news?"

The carpenter glanced up briefly from a wooden chest to which he was applying a gouging tool. "What news would that be? And why is your 'shaw empty?"

"Oh, it won't be for long!" Atash assured him. "Haven't you heard? A bunch of newspaper reporters and photographers came in on the train!"

"And they're coming here!" Yoru added. "The whole trainload!"

Stanno looked back up at the boys with sharpened interest. "Reporters, eh?" He sat up and rested the heels of his hands on his knees. "Well, well," he mused. "I suppose they all want to see if they can catch a glimpse of our beloved _khorovar_."

Atash and Yoru glanced at each other. It was a little scary, but very exciting. "Do you want us to go out there and meet 'em?"

"All the way to the train station?" Stanno exclaimed indignantly. "I should say not!" He grinned. "Wait till they get to the edge of town, then show up. They'll be so damn footsore they'll be begging for you!"

"Um…what if they ask us about _Zhaarad_ Andakar?" Yoru asked.

Stanno shrugged, unconcerned. "Play as dumb as you like. That shouldn't be too hard. Miles will make sure that Andakar is out of sight, I've no doubt." He held up his round mallet and pointed it at the boys. "But keep them away from the _khorovar's_ family. Do you understand?"

The pullers nodded solemnly and Stanno gestured toward the street with his mallet. "Now go and tell the other pullers what I said. Wait for the reporters, treat 'em like gold, and milk 'em for every cenz they have."

With eager grins, the two pullers hurried away with their rickshaws. Stanno returned to his work, shaking his head and laughing quietly to himself. Playing along with Scar's game of hide and seek was not one of his favorite things to do. Squeezing money from unsuspecting Amestrians was.

____________________________________________________________________

"So now all three of us know!" Winry declared with satisfaction. "Alphonse, me, and now you."

"I still don't get why Al didn't let us know," Ed grumbled.

"I told you why! Because Andakar asked him not to," Winry replied.

Ed shrugged. "So? He didn't have to go along with it. He could have just told us anyway."

"Al's not like that, Ed," Winry said with a fond tone in her voice. "He's got too strong a sense of honor."

Ed shot her a look. "And I don't?"

Winry tilted her head thoughtfully. "No, you do. Just not quite the same kind."

"Like hell he does," Havoc cut in. "Ed's the type who jumps right in without thinking."

"Sometimes you have to," Ed argued. "Sometimes you can overthink stuff."

"Well, that's definitely not your problem," Havoc remarked with a grin.

Ed shook his head dismissively. "Whatever." He turned to search Winry's face. "And you're okay? You look okay, but are you really?"

Winry laughed. "What, did you think I'd be covered in bruises or something?"

"Well, no…I just…" Ed let out a slightly frustrated breath. "That is Scar back there, you know!" he said, jerking his thumb behind him.

"Wow, you're good!" Havoc said. He leaned over to look at Winry. "This one's a keeper!"

Ed glared at him. "Would you just watch the road?" He turned back to Winry. "So what happened? What did he say to you? What did you say to him?"

Winry let out a long sigh, sitting back and gazing out the windshield. "Not what I would have expected," she said after a few moments. "It was like I—"

"Silver Hawk One to Blondie! Silver Hawk One to Blondie! Do you copy?" A tinny voice emanated from the field radio on the floor.

"Oh…geez…" Havoc looked back and forth from the road ahead to the radio. "Quick! One of you pick that up!"

Ed and Winry both bent down, knocking their heads together. Winry impatiently pushed Ed out of the way. "I'll get it! I'm more flexible that you at the moment!"

With a grunt, she pulled the radio up onto her lap and Havoc reached over to grab the microphone, pulling the wire under Ed's nose. "This is Blondie. Go ahead, Silver Hawk One."

"State your location."

"Uh…" Havoc looked around. "I'm just coming up between Maazra and Kanda." He grinned. "I've got the rooster in the bag, along with all the little chicks. I'm just takin' 'em home to roost."

The sound of a brief snicker could be heard over the speaker. "Understood, Blondie. Rendezvous with Alpha Hawk at the Maazra-Kanda-Gunja junction."

"Wow, say that again, but faster."

"Just get there, Havoc!"

"Understood. Blondie out." Havoc handed the microphone to Winry. "You can go ahead and put that back on the floor." He shook his head. "I've gotta get one of those smaller models."

"What are you doing taking orders from the army?" Ed asked. "I thought you retired."

"I did, but I still work along with them." Havoc replied. He grinned. "It's all part of being a merchant-adventurer! Like I said," he added, "here in Ishval, we look after our own. That means Ishvalans and Amestrians alike."

Ed nodded and sat back. He still had a lot of questions, but he suddenly felt exhausted from having to wrap his mind around all these new circumstances. At the moment, though, there was one more thing he wanted to know. "Who's Alpha Hawk?"

"That'd be the colonel," Havoc explained.

"Miles?"

"That's the one. Commander of the Silver Hawks of Fort Ishval. He learned how to be a scary bastard from one of the best, Fullmetal, so don't give him any crap."

"I wasn't going to!"

"Oh, he's not scary!" Winry scoffed.

Havoc gave a short laugh. "Depends on who you ask. If you're a private soldier caught slacking on the job, he's your worst nightmare."

They drove on, heading north on the access road between the districts of Maazra and Kanda toward the center of Ishval. As they approached the southern edge of Gunja, and Ed could see the dome of the Great Temple rising up in the distance. Covered with glossy red tiles, it glittered in the sun.

"There they are!" Havoc slowed the truck and pulled to the side of the road.

Just ahead, two mounted soldiers were approaching from the other direction. They rode up to the truck and dismounted. Over their uniforms they wore the pale, sand-colored cloaks that reflected the sun's rays, so the ranks on their shoulders were hidden, but there was no mistaking the first soldier who stepped up to the passenger side of the truck.

Miles ducked his head a little to look through the window. "So where is—" He broke off in surprise at seeing Havoc's passenger. Lifting his dark glasses, he stared. "Fullmetal!" he exclaimed. "Holy shit!"

"Nice to see you, too, Colonel," Ed replied, a little sullenly.

"He came in on the train this morning," Havoc explained for him.

"Oh, I see." Miles grinned slightly. "So you're the one who brought all those newshounds here."

"Like hell!" Ed shot back angrily.

The other soldier joined Miles and peered into the cab. "Hey, Ed! How's it going?"

Ed gave a start. "Benji?"

Benjamin tapped his forehead with two fingers in a brief salute. "None other! Congratulations, by the way!"

Ed frowned blankly. "What for?"

"Huh?" Benji stared back at him for a moment, then raised an eyebrow. "Wow, you've got a short memory."

"Goes with the territory," Miles added.

Ed seethed. "I'm not—"

Winry rolled her eyes. "Shush, Ed!"

Miles turned back to Havoc. "So where is he?"

Havoc nodded to the back of the truck. "They're all back there, sitting on top of the pickles and the canned ham."

Miles nodded and leaned toward the canvas covering behind the cab. "Doing all right, red-eyed brother?"

"Well enough," came the slightly muffled replied.

"Uncle Miles, I wanna go home!" came Danika's voice, sounding a little tearful.

"We're working on it, sweetheart," Miles told her. "Just sit tight." He turned back to the window of the cab and regarded Havoc with a somber look. "This is a big problem. This isn't just one or two curiosity seekers casually nosing around. These people mean business. They're all in competition with each other to find Scar first and they're going to be crawling around the place like a bunch of starving ants."

Havoc nodded. "And the next train doesn't come in until the day after tomorrow." He lifted his hands in exasperation. "Where are we gonna put 'em all?"

Miles gave a derisive snort. "Don't look at me. I'm running a military installation, not a bed and breakfast. Do you want to let one of them sleep on your couch?"

"Fat chance."

"Exactly."

"Yeah, but we can't have 'em sleeping in alleyways like a bunch of hobos," Benji said.

Miles shrugged. "When Ishval gets to the point when we can promote tourism, somebody will open up an inn, but that's still down the road."

"So, in the meantime?" Havoc prompted him.

Miles frowned down at the door frame and drummed his fingers against it. Then he lifted his head with a half grin. "The caravanserai!"

Havoc gave a start, then let out a laugh. "Seriously?"

"The what?" Ed asked.

"The caravanserai. It's where the Xingese caravans stable their camels," Havoc explained. "We're not expecting any caravans for another few weeks yet, so there are plenty of vacancies. It's a bit of a fixer-upper, though."

"It has a well," Benji said, then added, "and maybe a couple of rats."

"There's no such thing as just a couple of rats," Havoc told him. "They breed like rats, you know."

Miles waved away the remark and turned to his adjutant. "Have the place tidied up a bit and throw in some fresh straw, Sergeant Major."

Benji snapped a salute. "Sir! It'll be like their home away from home!"

"Let's not get too carried away."

In the cargo area of the truck, one of the twins let out an unhappy wail. While Rada's voice could be heard trying to soothe the toddler, Scar growled, "Miles, I want to get my family home! We can have this discussion then!"

"How about we meet on the road behind my shop," Havoc suggested. "I can let everybody off there. It's the closest I can get to their place."

Miles nodded. "Right. Go on then. We'll meet you over there."

Miles and Benji mounted their horses as Havoc started up the truck. He made a "y" turn and drove back the other way. After a couple of turns along the network of access roads, Havoc pulled up at the base of a short flight of steps that led from the road up to the back end of a row of buildings. At the top of the steps stood an Ishvalan woman. As the truck came to a halt, the woman hurried down the stairs and up to the driver's side.

"Jean! Finally!" she cried. "I was getting so worried!"

Havoc opened the door and slid out of the driver's seat and into the woman's arms. "It's okay, Eyla," he assured her, giving her a tight hug. "Didn't Stoyan tell you I was going to go look for Andakar?"

"Yes, he did," Eyla replied. "That doesn't mean I can't worry about you!"

Havoc looked over his shoulder into the cab of the truck. "You hear that, Ed?" he called with a grin. "That's the kind of stuff you get to look forward to!" He stepped back so he wasn't blocking the view of his wife. "Eyla, that's Edward Elric. Ed, this is my wife, Eyla. Isn't she amazing?"

Ed knew that a question like that was pretty much rhetorical, so he didn't attempt to answer it. He slid across the seat and stepped down from the driver's door. "It's nice to meet you," he said, extending his hand.

Eyla smiled prettily and shook his hand. " _Doishteve!_ " she replied. "Winry's told us nice things about you."

"Which took about five seconds," Havoc remarked.

Eyla smacked his arm. " _Eh-h!_ Don't be mean, Jean!" She turned back to Ed. "Don't listen to him."

"Yeah, I've pretty much given up on that," Ed told her.

Winry hopped down from the passenger side and went around to the back of the truck. She started untying the canvas flaps. "We're here!" she announced. "You can come out now!"

Scar shrugged through the flaps and handed Little Winry down. "Would you take her?"

Winry held up her arms and gathered the little girl into them. "Ed!" she called sharply around the side of the truck. "Come and help!"

Ed joined her and was immediately presented with Mattas. He stared for moment into the small woebegone face until Scar growled at him. "Take him!"

"Huh? Oh…uh…sure…" Ed took the little boy and held him at arm's length. He had never held a child this small before, and Mattas could tell. His lower lip stuck out, two large tears spilled from his eyes, and he began to cry again.

Scar hopped down and gave Ed a despairing look. "You'd better get used to that, Fullmetal."

"Hold him close, Ed! Like this!" Winry turned toward him so he could see how she was holding her small charge against her shoulder. "He wants to be comforted!"

While Ed tried to quiet the little boy's cries, Scar shook his head and turned back to the truck to help Rada step down. She held her arms out for her son and Ed gladly handed him over. She said something soothing to Mattas in Ishvalan, although she didn't look too happy herself. She rocked back and forth gently and kissed his silvery hair. "Mama's got you."

Scar lifted Danika out of the truck and set her on her feet. Her features were still pinched with anxiety, and she promptly gripped a handful of his tunic. Scar reached into the truck one more time and pulled out the two baskets they had taken on their picnic. He held them out to Ed. "Take these."

As Ed grasped the basket handles, wondering why Scar couldn't carry his own stuff, the Ishvalan fixed him with a steady look.

"Get my family home for me, Fullmetal."

Danika gave his tunic a tug. "Papa!" she whimpered softly.

Ed gave Scar a questioning look and opened his mouth to reply, but he was cut off by the sound of hooves ringing loudly against stone as Miles and Benjamin rode up and dismounted. Miles tossed his reins to his adjutant and joined the small crowd behind the truck.

"You probably want to hurry," he said to Scar. "They'll be here before long, and we still have to figure out what to do with you."

"It's already in hand, Miles," Scar replied. "If these people are going to be spending the next two days searching Ishval as hard as you say, it's best that I'm not here. I'm tired of making my people lie for me."

Miles met his gaze. "I don't think they mind all that much."

"That doesn't make it right," Scar replied firmly. "If I'm forced to hide somewhere, the fort would be the best place."

Miles frowned and shook his head. "I was planning on opening up the fort to them if they wanted to poke around there and ask questions, just to prove that you're not there, either." He shrugged. "Unless you want me to lock you up in the stockade so I can tell everyone I caught you."

"No!" Rada cried indignantly. "I'd rather lie until my tongue swells up and falls out! Why can't you just come home?"

"Rada," Scar said with thin patience, "we talked about this."

"You talked about it!" Rada held her crying son tighter. "I said I didn't want to do this!"

Miles spread his arms helplessly. "Well, then, if anybody has a better idea, I'm open to suggestions!"

There were a few beats of silence, during which Ed seriously considered suggesting that Scar just make an appearance and get it over with, but Winry suddenly spoke up.

"The circus!" she cried. Everyone turned to stare at her and she went on excitedly. "He can stay there! In one of the tents! I mean, not where they do the shows, but where they…uh…store stuff. You know, backstage!"

Scar gave the girl a doubtful look, Miles considered her with a nod. "That's not a bad idea. They're a private enterprise. They don't have to grant access to anybody, particularly not where they keep dangerous wild animals."

Winry scoffed. "They're not dangerous or wild! They're sweet! We got to meet them."

"Yes, but the reporters don't have to know that," Miles replied.

Winry grinned mischievously. "Exactly!"

Miles looked back at Scar. "That sounds like a workable solution to me," he said. "The chimeras already offered to help, and it would only be for a couple of days."

While Scar considered the idea with obvious reluctance, Danika gazed up at him with a forlorn, worried look. "Papa! I wanna go with you!"

Scar sighed deeply and rested his hand on top of her head. "No, little blackbird. You need to stay home and be a help to your mother."

Danika's face crumpled up and she buried it in his tunic, crying. With Mattas still whimpering, Rada stepped over to her daughter. "Danika, sweetheart, you heard Uncle Miles. It won't be for long," she told her, despite her own apparent unhappiness. "Come along now!"

The little girl only tightened her grip and shook her head emphatically. "No no no no!"

Ed watched the girl for a moment, then set the baskets on the ground. Little girls and their fathers had become something of a painful issue with him, something to which he no longer wanted to be just a bystander. He knelt down so his face was at her level. "Hey, Danika?"

Gulping down a sob, the little girl peered at him woefully around a fistful of Scar's tunic. Her blue eyes struck him as uncannily familiar, stirring something that wasn't entirely pleasant, but they were still the eyes of a sad little girl. "Your dad's gonna be okay, honest," he told her. "He's had to do stuff that was way scarier than this, and he came out of it just fine." Ed grinned at her. "And you will, too, because I bet your dad taught you how to be brave, right?"

The resentment in her look faded a little and Danika considered the young man for a few moments. Then she looked back up at Scar, hope and despair struggling in her eyes.

"Is it gonna be okay, really, Papa?" she asked in a small voice.

Scar stroked her hair. "Yes, of course it will, my little one."

Danika didn't seem entirely convinced, but she loosened her grip on Scar's tunic. He knelt down to hug her, and as she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, he looked past her shoulder at Ed, crimson eyes gazing steadily into gold.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

Ed shrugged it off and he smiled a wry half-grin. "Yeah, well, if you've got a whole province going to this much trouble on your behalf, you must be doing something right."

Scar shook his head. "From your mouth to God's ears, Fullmetal."


	14. Chapter 14

It was a forlorn little group that made its way through the streets of Kanda toward the cul-de-sac where the Ruhad family lived. Grimly silent, Rada kept them moving at a quick pace, wanting to get home as soon as possible. She seemed on the verge of tears when Scar had folded her and his son into his arms and kissed her, but she managed a brave smile. Once he had kissed his children and climbed back up into the back of the truck, her smile disappeared.

"Um, excuse me, ma'am!" Ed called from where he was lagging behind, laden with the two baskets. "Miss Rada? I'm sorry, but could we slow down a little?"

Rada looked back over her shoulder and she stopped, a remorseful grimace on her face. "Oh, Edward! I'm so sorry! I forgot about your leg!" She gave a weary sigh and slumped despondently. "And this day started out so nicely!"

Danika, who had been scurrying along behind her mother, was looking just as unhappy, despite everyone's assurances. "Mama, everybody said it's gonna be all right, but if doesn't feel all right! It feels like a bad thing! I miss Papa!"

Rada reached down and pulled Danika against her hip in a distracted hug. "I know, sweetheart. I miss him too. But for right now, let's just get home."

" _Zhaarana_ Rada!"

They all looked up to see Stoyan jogging up the street toward them. Rada let out a breath of relief. "Stoyan! Thank God!"

The young Ishvalan joined them. "What happened? Where is _Zhaarad_ Andakar?"

Rada gave a wry half smile. "He's gone to join the circus."

Stoyan looked at her blankly. "What?"

"It was my idea," Winry said. "It was the closest thing we could get to getting him out of Ishval while the reporters are here."

Stoyan nodded. "I see. That makes sense." He smiled at her. "That was a clever idea, Winry."

Winry smiled back at him. "Thanks!" She gave a little start. "Oh, Stoyan! This is Ed! Edward Elric! He came all the way out here to find me!"

Stoyan turned to the young Amestrian at Winry's side and he subtly drew himself up to his full height, putting him at a broad hand's breadth over Ed. "Yes, we've met." He then glanced down at the baskets Ed was holding. "Here, let me take one of those!"

"Sure." Ed readily handed him the heavier basket.

They resumed their way home with Stoyan striding ahead next to Rada. "Everyone should know by now," he told her. "Now it's just a matter of waiting it out."

"Yes, I know," Rada replied wearily. "God only knows what will happen in the meantime! And where are all the pullers?" she added irritably. "Andakar doesn't mind walking everywhere, but I certainly could have used them right about now!"

"They're all waiting near the northern edge of town for the reporters to get here," Stoyan explained. "I think their plan is to pull them all over Ishval and yet somehow never find anything."

"Oh, I see." Rada shifted Mattas from one shoulder to the other. "In that case, I suppose I shouldn't complain."

Stoyan nodded in commiseration, then glanced over his shoulder at Winry. Noticing Ed's limp, he turned around and held out his hand. "Are you hurt?" he asked. "I'll carry that other basket."

Ed was about to oblige him, but then he shook his head, not wanting to appear like a complete wimp. "No, I can handle it. And I'm not hurt. It's just my automail leg."

"Which I'm going to fix as soon as we get back," Winry said. "And I'm going to give him a severe talking to," she added with an affectionate look at Ed.

"I see." Stoyan glanced briefly at Ed's leg with mild curiosity. Ed thought he saw a look of disdain in the young Ishvalan's eyes, but he mentally shrugged off the idea as too paranoid. Then Stoyan turned to Winry with a smile. "Then he's in excellent hands."

Winry dimpled. "Oh, he knows that!"

"Yeah, I know that," Ed added for emphasis.

Stoyan started to turn away, then nodded at the basket Ed was holding. "You're sure you can carry that all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Ed replied firmly. There was no way he would give it up now. "Thanks!"

Stoyan went back to walk beside Rada, and Ed made a mental note that he wasn't the only one who was going to get a talking to.

By the time they got back to the house, the twins were asleep again. While Rada and Winry went to lay them down in their room, Stoyan set down his basket and waited for them. Ed wondered if he should make some light conversation, but all he think of to say would be why are you showing off in front of my girlfriend. It was a relief when Rada reappeard.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?" Stoyan promptly asked her.

"No, I don't think so," she told him. She thought for a moment, then added, "You know, you're probably going to have some of those reporters wanting to talk to the governor."

Stoyan nodded grimly. "I'm sure I will. I'll simply tell them that he's not in, that he's too busy trying to run Ishval to waste any time on them. The vultures!" he added in a mutter.

"I know." Rada gave him an affectionate pat on the arm. "But Andakar is depending on you to make sure his office is still running smoothly."

"Yes, of course! I'll be there if you need anything."

"Thank you." Rada turned to look around the front room. Danika was sitting glumly on one of the cushioned benches, her knees drawn up and her arms wrapped around them. Her mother gave a quiet sigh, then turned to Ed. "You're welcome to stay with us, Edward," she said. "If you don't mind sleeping out here."

"Oh. Are you sure? I don't want to put you to any trouble." Ed looked a little sheepish. "I did kind of drop in unannounced."

Rada managed a smile. "Of course I'm sure."

"That's very kind of you," Ed said. He gave a sudden start and clapped his hand to his forehead. "My suitcase is still on Havoc's truck!"

"I'll make sure it gets sent here," Stoyan said readily as he headed for the door.

"Thanks. That's very…helpful." _Which is probably this guy's middle name,_ Ed thought, a little ungraciously.

Rada closed the door after Stoyan and looked over at her guests. "It's too bad all this is happening just when you came out to visit, Edward." She smiled at him wanly. "You're not seeing us at our best."

Ed waved his hand. "Oh, don't worry about me, Miss Rada. I'm pretty good at rolling with the punches." He was tempted to add that he wouldn't have missed this for the world, but he wasn't quite sure about that yet. He also didn't think she would feel the same way.

_______________________________________________________________________

Roy dropped into his favorite chair and rubbed his face, groaning softly. "Well, that's what I get for going in on the weekend."

Riza watched him apprehensively. When he came home she was alarmed by the look on his face. She'd had an odd feeling all morning, but she had dismissed it as just another hormonal fluctuation. She was seven and a half months pregnant and she was not in the mood for alarms. "What happened?" she demanded.

Roy looked up at her. Being pregnant seemed to have made Riza's gaze even sharper and more determined. He almost smiled. "I only meant to pick up some files, and while I was there, a radio transmission came in from Miles. He said Ishval's been invaded."

Riza's eyes widened with shock. "What?" she cried.

"By reporters."

Riza flinched and blinked. Then she glared at him. "Don't scare me like that, Roy! I started picturing a massacre!"

"Well, there just might be," Roy replied. "In the figurative sense."

Riza shook her head impatiently. "What's the status? I want details!"

Now Roy allowed himself a tiny smirk. She might no longer be in uniform, but her mind still worked with military precision. "They arrived on the train at Ishval station a couple of hours ago. By now they should be straggling into town. The populace has been notified and Miles reports that he is ready for them."

"And the provincial governor?"

"Is in a secure location," Roy replied. "They've done everything they can do. The next train doesn't come in until the day after tomorrow, so they've got these jokers on their hands until then."

"Was this all prompted by that piece in _The Delver_?"

Roy nodded. "It appears so."

Riza scowled thoughtfully, resting her hands on her belly in an absent manner. "Where did this hunger for sensationalism come from!" she fumed.

"You can thank the public for that."

"It's disgraceful! And whatever happened to responsible journalism?"

"I think it wasn't so much that journalists were ever responsible," Roy said, sitting back wearily. "Under the previous regime, they were heavily controlled. Not that the previous regime ever admitted to that," he added. "Now the newspapers are having a field day."

"They just might," Riza agreed grimly. She let out a long sigh. "This could be bad."

"Potentially, yes. Not only will it make the administration look bad, but that wonderful public that adores a good scandal could demand that Scar finally be put on trial."

"They have no right! They owe him their lives!"

"All the public knows is that some Ishvalans helped put down the attempted takeover. Another one of those details that was kept vague, along with Scar's disappearance. No one has either denied or confirmed his death."

"The public hasn't been demanding that we be put on trial," Riza remarked with some bitterness. "And we have a lot more blood on our hands."

Roy knew she meant those remaining so-called heroes of the Ishvalan war and he nodded. That was something the public seemed to have conveniently forgotten and would probably shrug off as the unfortunate but necessary detritus of war. He could easily picture them not being so forgiving as far as Scar was concerned.

"Well, they have to find him, first."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that." Riza's expression grew unhappy as her protective, maternal instincts were rising to the surface. "It must be so hard for Rada and the kids, having this hanging over them all the time."

"It must be." Roy lifted his hands in a gesture of frustration. "But if our illustrious Fuhrer would stop sitting on his hands and finally grant Scar an official pardon, we wouldn't have this problem anymore!"

"Didn't you bring that up when you were in Central last month?" Riza asked.

"I did." Roy let out a dismissive snort. "He's playing cautious. I think the old fox is planning on running for a second term."

Riza looked at him sharply. "Last time I talked to him, he was going on about how he was looking forward to retirement! That old fart!"

Roy raised an eyebrow. "That's your grandfather you're talking about, you know."

"Then I think I'm entitled to call him as old a fart as I like," Riza snapped. "This country has to move on!" she declared. "Amestris has entered a new age, and we have to stop holding on to old animosities! Ishval isn't screaming for our blood anymore, so we shouldn't be screaming for any of theirs!"

Roy stood up and went over to take Riza by the shoulders. He kissed her lightly on the lips. "I'm hiring you as my campaign manager."

She fixed him with a sudden look of resolve. "First things first, Roy! If Grumman won't do anything, we need to take matters into our own hands!"

Roy gave her a quizzical, slightly apprehensive look. "And how are we going to do that?"

"By going over his head!" Riza declared. A little smirk curled at the edge of her lips. "Or maybe I should say around it."

She turned away and headed for the telephone. Picking up the receiver, she dialed a number that very few people had access to. She waited for a few moments, then said. "Yes, hello, this is Riza Mustang…I'm very well, thank you, Smithers. May I please speak to Mrs. Bradley?…Well, it is something of the nature of an emergency…Yes, of course…"

With the headset still to her ear, Riza gave Roy a conspiratorial smile. "Now we'll get something done!" Her attention quickly returned to the telephone. "Hello, Mrs. Bradley! How are you?"

________________________________________________________________________________

Inside the large tent that housed the elephants, Hyacinth and her fellow performers, Rose, Daisy, and Violet, watched the big Ishvalan pace slowly back and forth across the straw laden ground. Sitting on a bale of hay, Todd cracked open another peanut shell and held out the nut meats to the pachyderm matron.

 _Poor fellow!_ she observed as the flexible tip of her trunk wrapped around the peanuts and brought them up to her mouth.

"Yes, ma'am," Todd replied dutifully.

 _He is rather fine,_ Daisy, the youngest, remarked. _For a human, I mean._

Rose let out an amused huff. _Really, dear. He's not exactly your type. Besides, he's spoken for._

 _Yes, I know that!_ Daisy replied haughtily.

 _Ladies…_ Hyacinth chided them gently.

 _Todd, darling,_ Violet called, waving her trunk at their caretaker.

Todd quickly got to his feet and cracked open another few peanuts. "Here you go, Miss Violet."

_Thanks, dear. You're a love!_

_Todd, darling,_ Hyacinth said. _Call him over._

"Yes, ma'am." Todd brushed the bits of shell from his hands and went over to the far end of the tent where Scar had paced. "Excuse me…uh…Mr. Governor, sir. The ladies would like a word."

Scar turned and frowned at the young man. "The ladies?"

Todd gave a nod over his shoulder. "Miss Hyacinth."

Scar looked past him at the row of elephants. He would have told this young man to not bother him with something so outlandish if it weren't for the fact that there were four sets of eyes gazing back at him with such uncanny intent.

"If you don't mind, sir," Todd added.

Scar followed the young chimera back over to where the elephants stood. They were not in an enclosure. Darius said that they had better manners than that. Hyacinth lifted her trunk and curled the end of it, and Scar was sure she was beckoning him closer. As he stepped up to her, she raised the tip of her trunk and let it linger for a few moments over the scar on his face. She rumbled quietly.

"She says you have their sympathies," Todd translated.

Rose, standing next to her, gave a couple of hisses through her trunk. "Miss Rose said that humans can be so awful sometimes."

Hyacinth tapped Scar gently on the shoulder and murmured again. Todd gave a slightly embarrassed smile. "But…um…" He cleared his throat. "Miss Hyacinth said that you're…um…rather dear."

Scar lifted an eyebrow at the young man and Todd shrugged. "Her words, sir."

"I'm not questioning that," Scar replied. "I'm just wondering why she thinks that."

Hyacinth let out a soft whuffling sound, and Todd's amber eyes widened a little. Then he nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

He stepped onto the bale of hay and reached up to unbuckle the ornamental leather headdress that sat over Hyacinth's forehead. Pulling it away, he revealed a long, thin, ropey scar that ran from above Hyacinth's eyes to the beginning of her trunk. It looked as though the original wound had been deep and very painful.

Todd patted the elephant's trunk with a sorrowful look. "The handler before me got drunk one night and hit Miss Hyacinth with a shovel." He turned to Scar. "He's no longer with us."

Scar did not ask just how permanent the previous handler's punishment had been. Hyacinth rumbled again.

"She says you've known cruelty, and you've known kindness, just like her," Todd explained. "And like her, you let the kindness win out."

Scar gazed at Hyacinth's scar for a moment, then reached up and touched it gently with his fingertips. He shook his head. "I didn't," he admitted. "Not for a long time."

Todd smiled. "She knows it takes a while sometimes. She says it was the same for her."

Hyacinth draped her trunk affectionately over little Petal, who stood dozing at her mother's side.

"Besides, she knows a good parent when she sees one," Todd translated. "After that, she says, everything else falls into place."

Scar smiled slightly and inclined his head, feeling humbled. "Thank you, _Zhaarana_ Hyacinth. I'm honored by your regard."

"She says, don't mention it, sweetie."


	15. Chapter 15

"You okay, Ed?"

Ed lifted his forearm from where he had it resting over his eyes. "Yeah. I'm just trying to keep my head from spinning."

Winry shifted a little so that her shadow didn't block the light from the workroom window. Rada was downstairs, furiously cleaning to take her mind off her worries, employing Danika to help her. She let Winry work on Ed's leg in her sewing room because the light was better there at that time of day. They had moved a table close to the west-facing window. In his undershorts, Ed was laying on his back on it and Winry sat on a stool alongside it.

She nodded, changing the socket on her wrench to a smaller size. "It's certainly a lot to take in."

Instead of giving him her usual scolding while she cleaned and repaired his knee joint, she had filled him in on what she had learned since she arrived in Ishval. Having gotten over his initial astonishment, the missing parts of Scar's story fell into place, but it was Danika's story that intrigued him the most. Ed lay gazing up at the ceiling from under his arm.

"That bastard!" he suddenly declared.

Winry gave a jump and stared at him. "What? Who?"

Ed raised himself on his elbows. "Scar. Alchemists-Who-Turn-Their-Backs-On-The-Ways-Of-God-Must-Perish Scar. He beat us to it! Talk about turning Equivalent Exchange upside down!" He frowned. "Or maybe he turned it right side up. I dunno."

Winry rolled her eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"Me and Al," Ed replied, laying back down and folding his arms behind his head. "Between the two of us, we've been searching for ways to help people who have been hurt by alchemy, all because of one little girl we couldn't save. Then along comes another little girl who would have fallen right through the cracks and grown up all twisted and crazy like Kimblee. So who should come along but Scar, of all people, and he picked that little girl up and gave her and her mom hope and a new life and…" He shook his head and said, almost to himself, "And I bet he'll stick around, too." He glared up at the ceiling, struggling stubbornly with a juvenile feeling of what he thought was injustice but was, in fact, envy. "Damn it!" he blurted out forcefully. "He's done it all!"

"Well," Winry remarked, frowning down at a minute connection in Ed's knee, "you can't fault him for not being thorough."

Ed crooked a smirk. "I guess not. I just never would have pictured him as a…I don't know…the family type."

"Of course he is, Ed!" Winry corrected him. "For starters, he was already in love with Danika's mother. He absolutely adores her!" She smiled. "He's such a romantic!"

Ed turned his head to give her a wry look. "A romantic? That six-year rampage he was on was hardly romantic."

Winry lifted a shoulder. "Well, think about it. If he had been more of a realist, like his brother, he probably would have reacted differently. During the war, when he thought he'd lost everything, it must have broken his heart."

Ed considered her somberly. "Is that what he told you? Because he broke your heart, too, remember?"

Winry gazed down at the remainder of the collection of metal that she had neatly arranged. She only had a few crucial bits to attach. "I remember," she said quietly. "We haven't really…discussed...that part...what actually happened." She looked back at Ed with a solemn, almost defiant look. "When I'm ready to hear it, and when he's ready to tell me, he'll tell me. For now, we have an understanding."

Ed continued to watch her as she looked away from his gaze. "An understanding? That sounds vague and creepy, Winry."

She gave him a quick glance. "Well, it's not. It's just hard to explain." She ratcheted in one of the last pieces. "It's just something that happened."

Ed lifted his head. "What do you mean, something that happened?" he demanded. He stared at her in alarm and revulsion. "What happened?"

Winry tightened the last nut, connecting the nerves. Ed's body convulsed and he let out a loud yelp. She glared at him. "Not what you seem to be thinking, Edward Elric! Shame on you! I just…became part of his family."

With a groan, Ed sat up. "As what? One of his wives?"

Winry snatched up a wrench, but Ed quickly grabbed her wrist. "Okay, okay! Sorry! I didn't really mean that!" he said. He let go of Winry's wrist and eyed the wrench cautiously. "Havoc told me something about the governor practically adopting you. I didn't really think that much about it then, but that's what you're talking about, huh?"

Winry put the wrench down. "Yes, Ed, that's what I'm talking about, and like I said, it just sort of happened. Andakar—you really should stop calling him Scar, you know—has been very protective of me ever since I got here."

"Well, considering what he owes you," Ed mused, "it's the very least he could do. But considering what he actually _owes_ you—" he added with emphasis.

"Then I guess you'd say he owes me a family," Winry finished for him, packing her tools back into the case she brought them in.

She didn't elaborate on that. Ed decided he'd delve into that later. There was another subject he wanted to broach. "Havoc also said something about you having to fight off admirers. What's up with that?"

Winry stared at him with genuine blankness. "What?"

"Like that Stoyan guy." Ed gave a nod toward the general area of the rest of Ishval. "To begin with, it's like he took an instant dislike to me the moment he met me. And then he was practically eating you up with his eyes and trying to impress you by how efficient and helpful he is."

Winry looked even blanker. "He was acting efficient and helpful because he is. And yes, he's actually very impressive. He's one of the musicians with Spirit of Ishval, too! He's pretty much Dejan's assistant."

"Wait. What? Who?"

Winry let out an exasperated sigh. "Dejan Shua! He's the leader of Spirit of Ishval! The music group! Don't you listen to the radio?"

"Not really. Not music. I read books."

"Anyway, Dejan married Andakar's cousin, Naisha. And Colonel Miles married Andakar's other cousin Vesya, and his other cousin Damyan, who plays the bagpipe and he's also a potter—he makes really nice things, Ed!—he married a girl named Yasna, who's also part of Spirit of Ishval, so they're all a great big family!"

"That's great," Ed replied, who confused almost immediately. "But what about this Stoyan guy?"

Winry waved her hand. "Oh, he's just like that. He's just a nice guy."

"Maybe he is, but he's still got his eye on you!"

"Oh, Ed! Don't be ridiculous! It's not like he's flirting with me!"

"The hell he isn't!"

"Now Stanno is a different matter entirely," Winry said, shaking a finger for emphasis. "He's a shameless flirt, but he's just goofing around. He's harmless."

Ed clutched at his head. "Who…is…" he started to groan, then he looked up. "Wait! Wait! You mentioned him!" he said triumphantly.

"Yes, Ed. So glad you were paying attention," Winry replied dryly. "He's the one Rada was engaged to and he dumped her. Now he's the chieftain of Kanda. And like I said, he's harmless. And I can't think of anyone else. Unless you count Manfred. He's a monkey with the circus," she explained quickly, waving her hand. "He's sort of the original cheeky monkey. Definitely harmless."

Ed regarded her with a frown. "Fine. I still don't like Stoyan flirting with you."

"Edward!" Winry closed her took case with an irritated motion and stood up. "He's not flirting with me! And how would you even know?" she went on. "You don't flirt! I don't even think you know how!"

Ed swung his legs over the edge of the table and took Winry by the shoulders. He pulled her close to him and gave her a long, slow kiss. When their lips parted, they were both left breathless and wide-eyed.

"How did you get so good at that?" Winry gasped.

"Me?" Ed countered. "What about you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah, you! And how would you even know how good 'good' is supposed to be?" Ed gave her a mock glare. "Have you been practicing? With Stoyan or Stanno? Or maybe Manfred the monkey?"

Winry pulled back her fist but Ed held up his hands. "No! Please! I'm kidding! Honest!" He laughed as Winry settled down, and he slid off the table and hugged her, something he figured he needed to start doing more often. "We just fit, I guess."

Winry brought her arms up around his back. "You're such an idiot!" she said fondly. She had forgotten how good it felt to have his chin clear her head.

Ed laughed quietly. "Maybe. Maybe this idiot doesn't know how to flirt. Maybe he should have tried a little harder. But this idiot came clear across Amestris in record time just to see if you were all right," he replied. "And now that he's here, he's gonna give his old pal Scar a break and look after you himself."

Winry gave a contented sigh and then giggled. "Maybe it's a good thing your old pal Scar isn't here right now. If he saw us alone with you in just your shorts, we'd never hear the end of it."

__________________________________________________________________

"That kid's gotta have hams like a prize sow."

Squashed against each other in a rickshaw that comfortably sat two, three gentlemen of the journalistic persuasion observed with awe the progress that their puller was making. After their trek across the desert from the train station to civilization (if you could call it that), they eagerly snatched up his offer of a ride, promising him a generous remuneration for his pains. They were impressed with the way he trotted almost effortlessly, pulling three grown men in his rickshaw. If nothing else came of this venture, at least they were being treated to something mildly exotic and they would have satirical fun with it in their respective columns.

The young man was enthusiastic and helpful, if not too bright. It was pretty much what they expected from provincials in general and Ishvalans in particular. He said he knew who Scar was, and he had scratched his head over the photo in _The Delver_ , his dusky features screwed up in concentration. Then, as though a light had suddenly switched on in his otherwise underpowered cranial cavity, he snapped his fingers.

"You know what?" he declared. The three of them leaned closer to him in anticipation. "I kind of think I might have seen somebody who maybe looked like this!"

"Kind of. Might have. Maybe," Bates parroted under his breath once they had gotten underway. He was seriously beginning to wonder about this kid.

"Hey, it's more than we've gotten from anybody so— _oof!_ —far," Greggs replied as they went over a loose paving stone in the street.

Atash, as the young man had introduced himself, looked back over his shoulder with a grin that did not strike them as entirely apologetic. "Your pardon, _Zhaaradii_!" he called. He then nearly tipped them out one side of the rickshaw with a sudden swerve to avoid an old woman. She shook her walking stick at them and spewed out what could possibly have been some family curse.

McGraw readjusted his fedora. "Where exactly are we going?"

Greggs shrugged. "I dunno, but we're sure covering a lot of ground this way. Right now I'm just glad to get off my dogs and sit back."

Their puller was taking them up and down streets, through marketplaces and residential neighborhoods, although the reporters were having trouble telling the difference. If it wasn't for the fact that they saw the occasional blue-uniformed soldier, they would have felt as though they had traveled back to some ancient time. This place just seemed so damn backwards.

At one point, another rickshaw, carrying another load of similarly bemused Amestrians who had similarly promised large tips, came up from the opposite direction. The two pullers slowed and paused briefly. They rattled excitedly at each other in their incomprehensible language. The other puller set down the shafts of his rickshaw, which threatened to spill its alarmed contents. He held out his hand to one of them.

"Let me see that paper again!"

He was handed one of the many copies of _The Delver_ that were currently in circulation. The boy waved it at his colleague and the two fell to examining it. Then they jabbered heatedly for several moments. It was unclear whether they had come to some sort of agreement or whether an agreement had been proved futile, but they suddenly broke off and continued on their separate ways.

As Atash trotted along, Bates called up to him. "What was that all about?"

The young man gave a contemptuous toss of his head. "That Yoru's got nothin' but goat dung between his ears! He thinks he saw Scar a couple of weeks ago over behind the weavers' quarter. I told him I'm sure I saw Scar out behind the blacksmith's about that same time. They're clear across town from each other!"

Greggs grabbed his notebook and tried to hold his pencil steady against the paper as they jostled along. "Describe who you think you saw!"

"Let me see!" Atash mused, still loping along without missing a beat. "I remember a huge man! _Eh-h_ , but he was a big one! It was early morning. He looked like he'd been living rough. His clothes were all torn up. He was going through the blacksmith's garbage out back."

"Did you see a scar on his face?" Bates asked.

"That I did, _Zhaarad_!" Atash replied. "It was white against his face and all lumpy and wicked looking!"

"Did he see you?"

Atash laughed. "I'm much too quick!"

"Did you know who he was?"

"Of course I did! Everybody knows who Scar is!"

"Did it occur to you to alert the authorities?" McGraw asked him.

Atash glanced back at him as though the reporter had possibly gotten a little too much sun. "No! I was too scared! It could have been a ghost for all I know, and nobody would believe me. Or maybe Scar came back as a _jhavahal_!" He added ominously. He visibly shuddered. "I wouldn't dare risk having it come after me and suck the marrow out of my bones!"

The reporters rolled their eyes at each other. "But you're telling us about it now," Bates observed.

Atash gave a chuckle. "'Cause it's been a while! _Jhavahals_ are stupid. They have really short memories. Besides, this is more fun! Hold tight, _Zhaaradii_!"

He took a particularly sharp turn around a corner, slamming his three passengers against the right side of the rickshaw. Once McGraw managed to push the other two off him and they straightened up, they looked up at the road ahead.

"Whoa! Get a load of him!" Greggs said, pointing with a jerk of his chin.

"Hey, kid!" Bates called out. "Hold up for a minute!"

Just ahead, mounted on a sleek sorrel mare, was an officer of the Amestrian military. Over his uniform was one of those white overcoats used in rough terrain so his rank was not immediately apparent, but judging by his noble bearing and the way he sat his mount, it was quite apparent that he exercised some considerable authority. Although he wore a pair of dark glasses, he had the dark complexion and silver-white hair of an Ishvalan.

"Hey, that must be the garrison commander!" Bates hissed to his colleagues. "What's his name?"

"Aw, crap!" Greggs muttered. "It's right on the tip of my tongue!"

"Don't you bozos do any research before you go out on a story?" McGraw sneered.

"Okay, Mr. Walking Encyclopedia!" Bates sneered back. "Who is he?"

"Colonel Miles, formerly second-in-command up at Briggs. A tough nuts customer, from what I hear."

Duly impressed, Greggs nodded. "From Briggs, he'd have to be."

Their rickshaw slowed and stopped as the mounted officer reined alongside them. He gave them a polite nod. " _Doishteve na Ishval_ , gentlemen," he greeted them.

"Colonel Miles, I presume?" McGraw asked, adjusting his hat brim against the sun.

"You presume correctly," Miles replied. "I'm flattered to be recognized." He turned a little in his saddle. "Atash, are you taking good care of our visitors?"

Atash bobbed his head. "Oh, yes, your honor!" he replied eagerly. "I was just taking them to where I thought I saw—" He stopped for a moment, hunching his shoulders up a little. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Where I thought I saw Scar!"

Miles gave a condescending nod. "You do that, young Atash. And don't be afraid of _jhavahals_. You know they're not real, right?"

Atash scowled truculently and gave a slow nod. Miles let out a sigh and turned back to the reporters. "Well, I hope you enjoy your stay with us, gentlemen."

He made as though he was about to spur his horse forward, but Bates snatched his copy of The Delver out of his overcoat pocket. "Excuse me, Colonel! Have you seen this photo yet?"

He held it up and Miles leaned down to take it. He frowned down at the paper for a moment. "Yes, I've seen this around. A number of your colleagues have shown it to me already." He handed it back. "Not my usual reading material."

"May we have your opinion on it?" McGraw asked.

"Professional or personal?"

McGraw shrugged. "Either. Both."

"Well, that ought to be simple," Miles replied easily. "Either way, I think it's bullshit."

The reporters glanced at each other. "Care to elaborate on that, sir?" Greggs asked.

"On bullshit?" Miles shook his head. "It stinks. If you step in it, the stink gets on you. That's why I stay away from it." He smiled at them, his lips an otherwise hard line. "Other than that, gentlemen, I'm afraid I can't help you."

He glanced over at Atash and said a few words in Ishvalan. The young man gave a smart salute and replied, apparently in the affirmative. Miles gave the reporters a parting glance and urged his mare onwards. They watched him over their shoulders for a moment, then turned back to their puller.

"What did he say?" Bates asked.

Atash gripped the shaft handles. "He said to be thorough!" he replied, and he bolted forward, flinging his passengers back against the seat.

__________________________________________________________________

Messrs. Bates, Greggs, and McGraw, along with a number of their colleagues, stared with dismay at the rough half-stone, half-wood shacks that made up the caravanserai. After a couple of hours of completely fruitless, kindey-rattling rambling around Ishval, they started asking about lodgings while it was still early. The pullers could only shake their heads in sympathy. Ishval was still in the process of restoring itself, and hotels were at the bottom of the list.

McGraw grumbled and Bates gave him a shove against his shoulder. "Don't you do any research before you go out on a story, Bozo?"

"Well, you sure didn't!" McGraw snapped back. He turned to Atash, who stood nearby, looking helpful yet feckless. "This is the best you can do?" he demanded.

"I'm afraid so, Zhaaradii," the young man replied with a tragic expression. "If you had friends here, they could have put you up, but…" He shrugged to signify either his remorse or the fact that these men were, in fact, friendless. He brightened a little. "There's fresh straw! And the well is a good one! You'll find plenty of places in town to eat!" He rubbed his belly like the village idiot his passengers took him to be.

The reporters turned back to consider their accommodations for the night. A few had started exploring, finding stalls indeed filled with straw. The few intrepid women reporters had decided to make the best of things and had staked out a couple of the larger stalls. They had already started to instruct their pullers to see about providing them with blankets, promising them handsome tips for whatever they could get their hands on.

Atash regarded his passengers with proprietary compassion. "I know you're probably used to much grander places," he said. "But we're simple folk here." He suddenly grinned. "You should come to the circus tonight!" he exclaimed. "It sounds like fun! You can forget your troubles for a little while!"

Greggs let out a sigh. "I guess that's about all we can do for now."

Bates nodded. "There'll probably be a pretty good crowd there. I don't expect they get much excitement around here." He glanced at his companions. "We might even be able to pick up a lead."

With this optimistic idea, the reporters proceeded to pick out a spot for themselves to return to later that night.

The pullers gathered together briefly, drinking from canteens and talking quietly and casually amongst themselves in Ishvalan.

"Did you pull the _jhavahal_ story on them, Atash?" one of the young men asked.

Atash nodded. "It was all I could do not to piss myself."

Yoru let out a snicker and Atash jabbed him with his elbow. "Keep it down!" he muttered. Taking a drink from his canteen, he went on. "You should have heard the colonel. He was brilliant! Ishvala bless the man to his tenth generation!"

The other pullers nodded sagely. "The colonel said he'd treat us all to dinner after this," one of them remarked.

"We could treat him!" another replied. "We're going to be rich after this, brothers!"

This was met with more sagacious nods.


	16. Chapter 16

As the sun began to dip down in the west, groups of families and friends walked along the worn dirt road that led to the circus. It was set up less than a mile from the edge of town in a wide area that was clear of cactus and desert scrub. Neighbors chatted with each other, school girls giggled, and small children ran on ahead and were called back by their parents. All of them, though, were conscious of the presence of the reporters who joined them along the way.

The pullers had been hired (with yet another generous tip) to convey many of the reporters out to the circus. They had already walked all the way from the train station to Ishval and they were damned if they were going to hoof it any more than they had to.

"Behind you!" an eager voice cried out. "Step aside!"

Winry and Ed, who had Mattas up on his shoulders, moved to the side of the road, taking care to not back into a spiky cactus. Two pullers trotted past them, each conveying three passengers. Up the road ahead of them, Danika and Rada, who was carrying Little Winry on her hip, scooted to the side as well. Rada's eyes followed the rickshaws with a calm glare as they passed by. Danika glowered and stuck out her tongue at their backs.

As they continued on their way, Stoyan jogged up, falling in step beside Winry. He jerked his chin contemptuously at the backs of the rickshaws.

"They've been like a plague ever since they got here!" he grumbled. "They kept coming to the offices to see the khorovar. I kept telling them that he wasn't in, or he wasn't available, or he was out inspecting the barley fields. We'll be going through it all tomorrow, too! I don't understand why they even care so much."

"Maybe news has been slow lately and they're not selling enough papers," Ed suggested.

"So plain greed is behind all this?" Stoyan asked contemptuously. "Or are Amestrians just that jaded?"

Ed started to voice a retort, but Winry gently cut him off. "No more than anybody else," she said smoothly. She patted Stoyan's arm. "I'm sure you'll come through it all with flying colors. Andakar will be very proud of you."

Despite his irritation, Stoyan gave her a pleased smile. "Thank you!" He glanced over the top of Winry's head at Ed. "I see Winry got your leg fixed."

"That's right," Ed replied. If he wasn't trying to keep a secure hold of the toddler on his shoulders, he would have put a proprietary arm around Winry. "She's pretty amazing."

"Oh…" Winry gave a little shrug. "I don't know about that."

"You are!" Ed and Stoyan answered in unison.

"All right!" Winry laughed. "It must be true, then!"

The two young men laughed with her and exchanged grins that were cordial but sent an underlying message of _I've got your number, junior!_

"Hello! Hello!" a cheerful voice behind them called. A tall, lanky Ishvalan with a long braid bouncing behind his back came trotting up and wheeled around to face Ed, walking backwards. He thrust out his hand. "You must be Edward Elric!"

Holding Mattas carefully with one hand, Ed extended the other, which the man gripped and pumped enthusiastically. "Dejan Shua! I am delighted to make your acquaintance! Absolutely delighted! I understand nuptials are in the offing! What a lovely couple you and dear Winry will make! Set a date yet?" Dejan gazed at him with intent anticipation.

"Uh…"

"Don't put it off too long, my young friend!" Dejan warned. "Let me tell you, wedded bliss is like no other joy on this earth! Am I right, Nai, honey?"

"Oh, yes!" Ed turned to see a slender woman move in between Winry and Stoyan. She threaded her arm through the young Ishvalan's and smiled brightly at Ed. "You'll wonder why you ever waited so long!"

"My lovely bride, Naisha," Dejan told Ed, blowing his bride a kiss. "And here…" He held out his arm as a young girl skirted around Ed. "This is my daughter, Mika!"

The girl looked up at Ed with a perky smile much like her father's. "Hi!"

Ed glanced back and forth between the two women. "Nice to meet you."

"Isn't she adorable?" Dejan went on, wrapping an arm affectionately around his daughter. "Just think what a gorgeous creature she's going to be in just a few years! _Eh-h_ , it's going to go by so fast!" he sighed wistfully. "Next thing you know, I'll have suitors lined up at my doorstep, begging for her hand!"

"Stoyan!" Naisha exclaimed. "You have to come and sit with us! Dejan heard that the circus has its own band."

"Oh, they do?" Stoyan's interest was instantly piqued.

"Yes, so you and I need to compare notes," Dejan said. His eyes widened and he laughed. "Compare notes!" he cried. "That's good! I didn't even plan that one!"

"Come along then!" With a firm grip around Stoyan's arm, Naisha quickened her pace and hauled him off with them as they strode ahead.

Ed watched them distance themselves with something of a feeling of relief, which ended up being short lived. As he turned to Winry, the spot on her other side that had just been vacated by Stoyan was filled by yet another Ishvalan male. This one was older and rakishly attractive, and he was not anywhere near as reticent as Stoyan. He wrapped an arm around Winry's waist.

"So, tell me," he said to her but looking at Ed. "Is this my hated rival?"

Ed's mouth dropped open and he was about to make a scathing reply, but Mattas chose that moment to let out a loud squeal and start using the top of his head as a drum. Winry took matters into her own hands and elbowed the man in the ribs.

The man grunted and jerked away, clutching his side. He gave Winry an affronted look. "That hurt!"

"Oh, it didn't either!" Winry scoffed sternly.

Still rubbing his ribs, the man gave a nod in Ed's direction. "This is Ed, then, is it?" he asked pronouncing the name like it amused him.

"Yes, this is Ed," Ed replied stiffly. He would have liked to put on a more intimidating demeanor, but Mattas had grabbed two small fistfuls of his hair and was pulling on them. "You must—ouch! Winry, help me out here—you must be Stanno."

As Winry managed to pry Ed's hair out of Mattas' fingers, Stanno's eyebrows went up. "I am. You're a sharp one," he said, surprised.

"Process of elimination," Ed told him, trying to resettle the little boy on his shoulders. "The only one left is the monkey."

Stanno frowned. "Excuse me?"

Winry waved her hands. "Never mind!" She held her arms out. "I'll take him now, Ed."

"There you go, kid," Ed said in relief, handing Mattas over to her. "It's not like it hasn't been fun."

Winry settled the little boy on her hip. "Your pullers are sure having a field day with those reporters," she said to Stanno.

The carpenter chuckled uncharitably. "Haven't they? Those Amestrians have been hauled front, back, and sideways and they're no further ahead than when they got here. They'll leave poorer, as well."

"At least somebody's having fun with this," Winry remarked.

"I suppose." Stanno looked up ahead at Rada, who was striding along with a determined step. He lowered his voice. "How is she taking it?"

Winry gave him a sharp look out of the corner of her eye. "How do you think?" she replied. "She's miserable."

Stanno nodded thoughtfully. "So where's himself?"

"They've got him—" Ed began.

Winry cut him off sharply. "Shh!" She frowned at Stanno. "That's privileged information."

Stanno gave her an incredulous, wounded look. "Oh, now that hurts, Winry! I'm not—"

The slapping of feet signaled the approach of another rickshaw. "Coming through!" Yoru called out.

The pedestrians stepped aside as the reporters rolled by, waving pleasantly. Stanno gave them a wave back, for which Rada sent him a seething look back over her shoulder. He replied with a helpless shrug.

"She's upset, all right," he commented under his breath.

"Told you!" Winry muttered.

"Anyway," Stanno went on, "I'm not likely to betray Andakar to those Amestrian scum. No offense!" he added with a smirk to Ed.

Ed rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"I'll admit I might have thought about it in the past, but that was in the past." Stanno put on a solemn expression. "I have nobler ideals these days."

"Oh, Stanno," Winry sighed. "You just want to suck up to Rada. You're so transparent!"

Stanno let out a curt laugh. "And you're an impudent little girl!" He looked around her at Ed. "Good luck with this one, lad. She's got us all running around in circles."

Ed just laughed, and now that his hands were free he put his arm around Winry's waist. "So I've noticed."

____________________________________________________________________

Music and cheering could be heard, muffled somewhat by canvas and distance, but it was remarkably quiet in the large backstage tent now that it was empty. Just a few moments ago it was full of animals and people of various species. They had filed out for their opening promenade inside the "big top", as Darius called the main tent. The women strutted out in bright, sequined, and (in Scar's opinion), revealing costumes. Darius and Heinkel looked dashing in royal blue swallowtail coats with sequined lapels and shiny black top hats. Even Manfred was decked out in a tiny coat and hat. The clowns marched out in all manner of colorful and exaggerated costumes, including Yoki, who trudged after them with a melancholy expression on his face, a shovel over his shoulder, and a garishly painted trashcan on wheels behind him.

Two tigers, a leopard, and a thickly-maned lion padded out behind Heinkel. His "kitties", he called them. He was accompanied by a woman who was also clad in a royal blue coat but wore black lace tights instead of trousers. She moved with a sinuous swing of her hips, and Scar had the impression that there was something definitely feline about her. He also had the impression that Heinkel was rather fond of her, judging by the way he preened his mustache in her presence. 

The elephants had filed out, with Daisy giving Scar a shy wave with her trunk before following Violet through the tent flaps. Todd, in a bright red silk vest and loose-fitting pants gathered below his knees, sat astride Hyacinth's neck. Petal, who would not be separated from her mother, trotted eagerly out with them, wearing a pink headdress adorned with matching ostrich feathers. Todd said she was really starting to enjoy show business.

Alone for now, Scar sat on a hay bale, his elbows propped on his knees and his hands clasped. He tried to picture the look of delight on Danika's face when she saw the baby elephant make her appearance, and he smiled to himself for a moment. Then he grew deeply sad. His family was everything to him, second only to God. The family he grew up with had been taken from him; now he was separated from the family he had made for himself. He knew it was only for a short time, but that didn't make his heart ache any less. It was ridiculous to have to hide here, of all places. Darius had suggested that if he wanted to see his family, they could make him up in comedy whiteface and send him out with the rest of the clowns. The glare Scar gave him cut that joke short.

He dropped his head forward, resting them on his hands. He was fully aware that he was indulging in shameless self-pity. He himself had only minimal interest in the circus performance, but he was missing out on sharing this experience with Rada and the children. It seemed such a trivial thing. Miles, who saw this as a necessary inconvenience, would shrug it off and tell him to suck it up, or whatever he told his men if they complained about something. Scar looked forward to when his friend would begin to experience that particular mental anguish unique to parents. _Suck_ that _up, my red-eyed brother_.

How many more times would they have to go through this charade? The Amestrian government let him go about the business of quietly governing Ishval, which suited him just fine, but it would not publicly acknowledge him for who he was. The _khorovar_ of Ishval was a mysterious, nebulous character. No official photos of him existed, a bullet he had managed to dodge. Until now, of course. Now everyone was scrambling to keep him from the public eye. Some were trying to protect Ishval, some were simply trying to protect their own reputations, and the entire situation was taking on grotesque proportions. Well, the Ishvalans had officially bound their fate to the Amestrians, and this was the harvest they were reaping. It was his considered opinion that politics had to be one of the lowest forms of human endeavor.

Human and animal noises heralded the return of the circus performers, minus the horses, whose act was first. The elephants lumbered in behind the aerialists. Yoki, looking particularly martyred, slouched in after the other clowns and dropped down next to Scar on his hay bale.

He heaved a tremendous sigh. "I don't know why I submit to this!"

It was difficult to muster up much pity for someone who seemed to take such pleasure in being pathetic. "Perhaps because you can't do anything else," Scar remarked.

"Aw, quit whining!" Darius growled at Yoki as he stepped up to them. "This is the closest thing to a family you've got!" Yoki just sniffed and the chimera shook his head. He turned to Scar and grinned. "I saw Ed out there! I didn't know he'd shown up here!"

"Yes, he showed up here," Scar replied wearily.

"I saw him and Winry sitting with your little girl and an Ishvalan lady," Darius went on. A look of wonder crossed his face. "Is that your wife?"

Scar found his spirits rising a little from his dark mood, knowing that Rada was so close. He looked up at the chimera, affection and pride welling instinctively. "She is."

Darius whistled admiringly. " _Damn_ , son!"

Yoki perked up and looked back and forth at them. "What? Really? I wasn't looking!"

"Don't worry, you'll see her," Darius assured him. "When the elephants do their show."

"Hm!" Yoki slumped again and crossed his arms. "I can hardly wait!"

____________________________________________________________________

In the entirety of her seven and a half years, she had never seen anything like it. Even after having seen all the people and the animals the day before, it didn't prepare her for the amazing spectacle of all these creatures in so many colorful costumes. The horses, large and small, pranced daintily on silver painted hooves, plumes of feathers sprouting from their halters. There were pretty ladies in sparkly outfits who smiled and waved at the audience. The clowns jumped and danced and even ran up into the stands and make funny faces at the audience.

Around her, the other people in the stands let out gasps at the sight of the big cats that prowled along with the rest of the parade. Danika just smiled to herself. Just the day before, she had been scratching Snickers' belly as the tiger lay stretched out on his back. But when she saw the elephants, Danika let out her own gasp of delight. There was little Petal, trotting bravely beside her mother, all decked out in pink. Danika bounced in her seat and waved, and Petal lifted her trunk and let out a squeak of a trumpet in reply.

Danika giggled and clapped her hands. "Did you see, Mama!" she cried. "Petal said hi to me!"

"Yes, sweetie, I saw." Mama was too busy keeping a hold of Little Winry while Mattas was trying to climb into her lap, too. Mama also seemed like she wasn't really enjoying herself, and with a sudden sting of guilt and sorrow, Danika remembered why. Her joy and delight evaporated. Papa wasn't here with them. He had to hide from the stupid _stupid_ reporters who were trying to take his picture when he didn't want them to. Nobody had explained to her exactly why all this was going on, but it made her angry. He should have been there with them. She should have been able to lean against his strong arm and point out all the wonderful things they were seeing. He should be having fun, too.

The wonderful parade of color swam before her eyes and she gulped a little sob. Next to her, Winry put her arm around her and gave a little squeeze. She bent down close to Danika's ear.

"It's going to be okay," she told her.

Danika knew she was meant to be brave, but it was hard. "I wanted Papa to watch the circus with me!" she whimpered.

"Well, he sort of is," Winry told her. "He's not that far from here. He's in one of the other tents, so he's seeing all the animals, too." She gave Danika another hug. "And I bet he's thinking about you."

Danika drew in a quick breath. That was true! She'd forgotten about that. She even started peering around at the dark shadows behind the stands, hoping maybe that Papa was hiding there. She couldn't see much of anything that wasn't illuminated by the bright lights, which was a disappointment, but the thought gave her hope and she wasn't going to give up.

____________________________________________________________________

In another section of the stands, McGraw munched on a bag of popcorn. Half his attention was on the circus parade and the other half was on the other members of the audience. He was big on remote possibilities. He'd had a fair amount of luck with them in the past. It was highly improbable that Scar would make an appearance in a crowd like this, but it wasn't completely impossible. Heck, the guy had been living a pretty rough life. Maybe he'd want to relax a little bit like everybody else. In the meantime, McGraw made a quick study of the faces in the audience. There were a number of soldiers, not to mention the other members of his news profession, and he even saw that Elric kid in the stands. But the crowd was made up mostly of Ishvalans, who all looked pretty much alike to him.

Well, maybe not quite. Right there with Elric and some blonde girl, sat an Ishvalan woman with a toddler on her lap. She definitely stood out from her countrymen, and McGraw's attention was arrested by her. She was a real looker, even with the frown on her face. She must really light up when she smiled.

McGraw nudged Bates, who along with Greggs, was ogling one of the dames in the sparkly leotards.

"What?" Bates muttered irritably.

McGraw gave a subtle tilt of his head. "There. Up in the stands. Don't stare, dumbass! Next to the Fullmetal Alchemist."

Bates scowled, trying to search the crowd without looking like he was doing so. "Who? Oh! That guy on the train this morning?"

"Geez, was that just this morning?" Greggs remarked from Bates' other side, his eyes also travelling over the audience. "There he is!" He looked back at the parade in the middle of the tent and made a show of laughing at one of the clowns. "What about him? He was kind of a dead end."

"There's a woman a couple of seats over from him," McGraw went on. "A real doll!"

"Huh?" Bates glanced back over in that direction. "I don't—oh, yeah! Oh, yeah!"

"Not too shabby," Greggs agreed. "That's one hot mama! Is there a papa in the neighborhood?"

"Doesn't look like it," Bates said. "Maybe that's why she looks kind of out of sorts, what with the handful of kids she's got."

"Maybe her old man was killed in the war," Greggs wondered.

"You kind of stink at math, don't you, Greggie?" Bates chuckled. "Those little ones on her lap can't be more than two years old. The war's been over for something like eight years now."

Greggs shrugged dismissively. "Okay, so maybe she gets around." He grinned and winked. "Active duty. You know what I'm sayin'?"

"Not around here," McGraw said. "I've heard these Ishvalans don't go in for that. They're laced up pretty tight."

"Okay, fine. Maybe he just sent his family off to the circus while he sat back and relaxed." Gregg gave a laugh. "That's probably what I'd do."

"And let a sweet-looking dame like that outta your sight?" Bates scoffed. "I'd have sent the kids off and kept her home!"

"So what's that other little kid looking for, I wonder?" McGraw mused. "She's got a whole damn circus marching around in front of her, and she's looking everywhere else like she lost somebody. Daddy, maybe?"

"Maybe," Bates agreed, not too eagerly. He gave a slight start. "Oh, hey! Didja see that? She stuck her tongue out at me!"

"Probably because you're gawking at her," McGraw replied, keeping his face pointed toward the performers in the center of the tent. "Very subtle, Bates."

____________________________________________________________________

Danika let out a frustrated sigh. Papa wasn't anywhere in sight. But maybe it was just as well since those stupid _stupid_ reporters were here, too. Well, she showed them exactly what she thought of them! 


	17. Chapter 17

It was a wonderful show, and if she had not been so distracted, it would have been one of the high points of her life, right after getting her chuva from Papa and finally getting to call him Papa for real. Papa, of course, was more important, and it made her angry and sad that he wasn't sitting next to her. But then one of the clowns would do something really funny, or one of the people way up on the tightrope or the trapeze would do an amazing trick, and she would forget for just a few minutes.

The big cats came out with Mr. Heinkle and Miss Felicity and acted fierce. The rest of the audience got nervous because they didn't use a cage, but Danika knew better. When the elephants came out for their act, she succumbed to enthrallment. The band played and the elephants danced to the music. It was like when Uncle Dejan and his people played music for a celebration and everybody danced. Todd moved in and out between them, much like a dancer himself, giving them cues on the next steps. At one point, Todd and Petal did a little dance together, the other elephants circling around them. Todd held the end of Petal's trunk daintily, moving back and forth with her or around in a circle. They ended their duet with Todd dropping to one knee in front of Petal and kissing the tip of her trunk. It was so wonderful that even Mama smiled.

But then one of the elephants had to pause for a moment relieve herself, which everyone thought was really funny, although Danika felt embarrassed for her. But she didn't seem to mind. Especially when one of the clowns, who looked very sad, wheeled out a trash can and shoveled the elephant poop into it. At one point, two of the elephants, Daisy and Violet, crowded close to the clown. He scowled up at Violet while Daisy stole his shovel and carried it away. Before he could chase after her, Violet wrapped her trunk around his waist, lifted him up, and circled around the ring with him. At one point she paused by the trashcan and held him over it head first while the crowd yelled encouragement. But then she turned him right side up and set him on his feet. Edward laughed so hard that Danika thought he was going to hurt himself. When the clown finally wheeled his trashcan away, the audience cheered for him, but he didn't seem very happy about it.

Finally the show ended and Danika didn't join in on the applause as much as everyone else, even though she loved the show. She felt dejection come on. It meant that they would be leaving soon and going home without Papa. Then Ed leaned over toward Mama.

"Do you want to go out on the midway?" he asked. He smiled. "Maybe I can win a prize for the kids."

Danika hadn't really had a chance to pay very much attention to Ed until now. He seemed to be a friend of Papa's like Winry was, and he just came into their family like Winry did. Despite the upheaval they were going through right now, or perhaps because of it, Ed's presence was somewhat reassuring. Mama returned his smile a little wearily.

"They'd love that, Edward," she said. Danika was inclined to agree with her. "But I'd rather not stay too long."

"Oh, don't worry about that!" Ed assured her. "I've got pretty good aim. It'll be no time at all!"

Danika was all for this idea. It meant that they weren't going home just yet and they would be staying near Papa for a little while longer. It was even possible that she might catch a glimpse of him or he of her. It would give him a moment of reassurance; she could certainly use one herself.

The midway, as Ed called it, was like a very busy day at the marketplace, except it was at night. Light bulbs strung on wires stretched overhead, making everything bright and festive looking. There were many of their neighbors, schoolmates, and soldiers walking around, playing games and looking at things to buy. There were also a number of those reporters out as well, which wasn't so festive. There were good food smells in the air, and Edward bought her and Winry some cotton candy. Danika had never had it before and it was wonderful! As they walked along the rows of booths, she gobbled the spun sugar down to its paper cone. Then she felt bad because she hadn't saved any for Papa.

While Mama and Winry held the babies, they watched Ed shoot at little duck-shaped targets with a sort of rifle at one of the game booths. He was not as good at as he thought he was. The little ducks moved along their conveyor belt in relative safety. _Zhaarad_ Havoc and _Zhaarana_ Eyla stopped to watch him. After a few more fruitless efforts, Havoc let out a groan of frustration and took the gun out of Ed's hands.

"It's a good thing we never had to depend on your skills as a sniper, Fullmetal."

Ed huffed. "You can do better, huh?"

Havoc gave him a look of patient indulgence, then handed some money to the man running the booth. The ducks were set up again (the few Ed manage to actually hit) and set in motion. Havoc held the rifle up to his shoulder and started shooting. The little birds had no chance and they fell one after the other. When he ran out of shots, the proprietor pointed to a row of stuffed animals hanging from the ceiling of his booth. Havoc turned to Danika.

"Whaddya say, Little Bit?" He stepped back to let her get a closer look. "You get first pick."

Danika gave a soft little gasp and looked up, wide-eyed. She pointed to a pink elephant. "Can I have that one?"

"One pink elephant for the little lady!" Havoc announced, and he handed her the stuffed elephant. "And if you're a good girl, this is the only kind you'll ever see!"

Danika wasn't sure what he was talking about, but she hugged the toy. "Thank you!" she breathed.

Havoc picked up the rifle again and handed the proprietor more money. "Okay, this one's for the little guy." He looked back at Ed. "That's Mattas."

Ed sneered at him. "Real funny, Blondie."

Havoc just laughed and set about knocking down some more ducks. As appreciative as Danika was, it was too noisy for her, although the babies thought it was great. Danika backed up a little, which no one seemed to notice. Then an idea struck her and she made a decision. While Havoc continued shooting and joking with Ed and the ladies laughed along with them, Danika began to move slowly away. As soon as she felt she'd gone far enough, she darted off. She really wasn't sure where to start looking, but she knew she couldn't leave without somehow finding out where Papa was.

She moved from one pocket of shadow to another, holding her elephant, which she had already named Petal, tightly in her arms. At one point she saw Uncle Miles and Aunt Vesya strolling along a row of booths. Danika ducked between two of the booths and waited until they passed by. She felt awful about doing that. She would normally have enlisted their help, but Uncle Miles had been very firm about Papa hiding and he would probably scold her and wouldn't let her look anymore. She couldn't afford to let that happen.

She waited for a few more moments, then stepped back out, glancing off to her left to see Miles and Vesya turn a corner up ahead. As soon as they were out of sight, she turned to continue on her way. But she bumped straight into someone.

"Whoa, there!" a man's voice said. "You might want to keep an eye on where you're going, kiddo!"

With a start of alarm, Danika looked up into the face of an Amestrian man. He was flanked by two others, and it took her a moment to recognize them as some of the reporters she had seen inside the circus tent, the ones at whom she had stuck out her tongue. All three of them were smiling at her, so either they hadn't noticed or they weren't holding it against her. The one who had spoken, however, had his hand firmly on her shoulder as though to steady her. Although her heart had started pounding, her balance was perfectly fine and she didn't need any help. She tried to pull away, but the man kept holding her shoulder.

"Are you lost?" he asked her. He sounded kind, but there was something not quite right about this. "Are you looking for your folks?"

One of Danika's earliest memories was of her mother telling her not to talk to strangers, Amestrians especially. Papa had since taught her that she should indeed be cautious, but she should at least show some basic courtesy. All of this went straight out of her head and she just stared up at the three men. One of the others bent down, planting the heels of his hands on his knees, and grinned at her.

"Would you like us to help you?" he asked.

Danika's arms tightened harder around her elephant. What had started out as a good idea wasn't so good anymore. She didn't want to have anything to do with these men, but it seemed that it would be difficult to get away from them.

"Are you looking for your mom?" the first man asked. "Or maybe your dad?"

Danika flinched. It really was too uncanny. The reporter moved around behind her, keeping a gentle pressure on her shoulder. He lowered himself to one knee next to her like he thought he was one of her uncles. Now she was surrounded. The reporter looked up at one of his friends. "Bates?"

Bates reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a folded up newspaper. He held it out so Danika could see it.

"Is this your dad?"

They were standing under one of the strings of lights so that both the paper and her face were illuminated. When Danika looked at the picture, her mouth dropped open and she sucked in an audible gasp. She hadn't meant to, but she couldn't help it.

"Bingo," she heard the man just behind her say, his voice quietly triumphant.

The grin on the face of the man holding the paper grew a little wider. "I gotta hand it to you, McGraw," he said. "You're good."

"My gut has never lied to me." The man behind her gave her shoulder a little reassuring squeeze, but it only made her more terrified. "So, little miss," he said to her. "How about me and Uncle Bates and Uncle Greggs help you find Daddy?"

As she stared at the pictures in the paper, her vision seemed to go dim and she felt like she couldn't move. At a complete loss, she did the only thing she could think of doing. She began to fill up her lungs to let out a scream.

"Danika!"

The air spilled out of her lungs silently and the men crowding around her stirred. One of them was even pushed aside and another set of hands dropped down on her shoulders. She was turned around to face Stoyan. She was never so glad to see him in her life. He studied her face and his expression grew gravely dark. "Are you all right?"

She managed to give a hint of a nod and she slipped around behind him, gripping the hem of his shirt with one hand and holding on tightly to her elephant with the other. Stoyan looked around at the reporters. "What were you doing to her?" he demanded furiously.

The first man spread his hands. "Nothing!" he protested with wounded innocence. "She looked like she was lost, so we offered to help her find her parents."

"Yeah!" the other reporter, Bates, agreed. "Do you people always get so bent outta shape over nothing?"

"Nothing?" Stoyan snapped back. "Haven't you people done enough to us?"

"All we're trying to do is inform the public," Bates replied calmly. "Nothin' wrong with that."

The first reporter, McGraw, had been narrowly eyeing Stoyan. "This is the guy from the governor's office! The one that gave us such a hard time. Seems like your boss is another slippery character." He waved one of his hands to indicate their surroundings. "I'm sensing a pattern here."

"Me too!" the third reporter, Greggs, chimed in. He jerked his chin at Stoyan. "What's your story, Morning Glory?"

The reporters moved in a little closer to them, but Stoyan stood rooted to the ground. "You're nothing but a bunch of parasites!" he growled huskily.

The reporters made a show of glancing at each other a little indignantly. "That's kind of harsh," Bates remarked.

"They say the truth hurts!" Stoyan countered.

"Funny you should bring up truth," McGraw replied calmly. "I'm getting the distinct impression that you're all trying to hide something." He took the paper from Bates and held it in front of Stoyan's face. "Or someone."

Danika couldn't bring herself to look at the picture again and she buried her face in the plush fabric of her elephant. She couldn't understand why Stoyan didn't just take her away. Then he shouted, and his voice didn't even sound like his.

"Bastards! What do you even hope to—"

"Oh, hey! There you are!"

Danika's eyes flew open and she looked around. Edward jogged up to Stoyan's side and threw an arm around his shoulders. "We've been looking all over!" he exclaimed cheerfully.

Stoyan tried to jerk away from him. "Leave me—"

Ed cut him off, keeping his arm firmly on his shoulders. "Good thing you found her, Stoyan! Rada's been looking all over for her! She's been worried sick!" He waved at the reporters with a grin. "Catch you later, fellas!"

Ed steered Stoyan around and marched him away, nearly dragging Danika behind them, still clutching a handful of Stoyan's shirt. They were moving very quickly and she almost stumbled, but she was too relieved to complain.

"Your sense of loyalty is really great," Edward muttered after they had put some distance between them and the reporters. "But it just about got you in trouble. You have any idea what a mess you would have started back there if I hadn't shown up?"

Danika looked up to see Stoyan push Edward away. "Filthy Amestrian bastards!" he hissed furiously.

Edward gave him a shove back. "Hey, cool off!" he growled.

"Don't tell me to cool off!" Stoyan snapped. "What good have you done since you came here?"

Edward stared at him. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You come limping in, forcing yourself on _Zhaarad_ Andakar's family—"

"I wasn't forcing myself on anybody!" Edward shot back. "I came here to find Winry, who I think you've been moving in on, by the way!"

Stoyan stopped. Edward stopped. Danika stopped and looked up at them. They glared at each other and had their fists clenched. Danika finally managed to find her voice.

"Stop it!" she cried.

The young men flinched and turned to her, startled. She glowered tearfully back and forth at them. "Don't fight!" she scolded. "It's not nice! People shouldn't hurt other people!"

The sharp tension slowly dissipated. Edward was the first to relax. He nodded. "You're sure right about that, Danika," he told her.

Stoyan's shoulders slumped and he gave Edward a grudgingly rueful look. "I lost my temper," he said calmly. "I apologize." A very small, grim smile pulled at his mouth. "We're on the same side, after all."

Edward gave a quiet laugh and returned the smile. "I'm tempted to say that's stretching a point, but that's sort of been my whole history with Sc—your _Zhaarad_ Andakar."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The reporters remained where they were, watching the two young men lead the little girl away. Greggs let out a bitter grunt.

"Well, _that_ was a trip for biscuits!" he observed morosely.

McGraw smiled. "Oh, not at all, Greggie," he replied. "I think we gathered up a whole world of information." He turned to regard his colleagues with a satisfied look. "We've got one more day here in this crapper of a place. We just need to keep our eyes on that little girl."

______________________________________________________________________

Once all the fun from the circus had worn off, the rest of the evening had been a somewhat trying one. Not so much for Ed. This wasn't his crisis, but it was hard to watch this family's brave face crumble around the edges. Rada and Winry put the kids to bed as soon as they got home. Danika had protested that Papa wasn't there to listen to her say her prayers. Rada, even her patience growing thin, told her that Ishvala could hear her prayers just fine even if her Papa wasn't there. Danika had to content herself with this and trudged off to bed, a sorrowful little figure.

Ed could sympathize with her. He still remembered his own fear and confusion and anger when he realized that his father was gone. Whatever his own opinion of Scar was, which would likely always be somewhat mixed, the man was this little girl's hero. A pack of newshounds might split them up for a couple of days, but it would probably take more than the end of the world to tear Scar from his family. Danika was actually pretty lucky, but Ed wasn't going to insult her by trying to convince her of that right now.

Although she was clearly exhausted and dejected, Rada went off to her room to make sure Ed had some blankets and a pillow. While she was gone, Ed sat down on the bench where he would be sleeping. The cushion felt comfortable enough. He noticed that his suitcase was on the floor close by. At least Stoyan wasn't all talk. Much to Ed's relief, Dejan collared Stoyan on the way home, chattering about the merits of the circus band, and dragged him home. Ed didn't really bear the young Ishvalan any serious ill will, but it had been an extremely long day and he wasn't up for any more competitive helpfulness.

He hadn't really been paying attention, but after several minutes had gone by, Winry announced that she was going to check on Rada.

"It doesn't matter," Ed said. "She certainly doesn't have to rush on my account. She can take her time."

"That's not it," Winry replied. She strode toward the hall.

Ed jumped up. "No, Winry! It's all right!"

He hoped to head her off, but she had already made it to the door of the master bedroom, where she stopped. Looking over her shoulder, Ed could see Rada sitting on the edge of the bed. She was holding a pillow, her face buried and her shoulders shaking with sobs. Winry gave a little cry and rushed to sit beside her, putting her arms around her.

After a few moments, Rada raised her head and looked at Winry with utter misery. "Ever since our wedding," she managed to get out, "we've never spent a night apart!" Her head dropped down again and her weeping renewed.

Ed watched them, feeling wretchedly helpless. "You know, it's okay, I...uh...don't need a pillow," he murmured. It was probably Scar's pillow and Rada didn't look like she wanted to part with it. It would have felt weird anyway.

Winry nodded to a wooden chest at the foot of the bed. "I think there are blankets in there," she said, keeping her voice hushed. "Go ahead and take one."

Ed opened up the carved lid of the dark, red-hued wooden chest, revealing neatly folded bed linen and a soft woven wool blanket. He pulled it out. "Right," he declared. "I'm set." He gave Rada a final sympathetic look, but Winry seemed to have the situation under control and he left. After a short trip to the bathroom, he went back out to his makeshift bed. After pulling off his shoes, he lay back on the cushioned bench, spreading the blanket over himself. He left the lantern burning and waited for Winry to come back out.

The next thing he knew, the room was dark and there was the muffled sound of someone crying frantically. He sat up and glanced around, disoriented, and he could still hear crying. He thought at first that he'd only dozed off for a few minutes and it was Rada that he was hearing. Then he realized that it was a child. He could barely make out the shape of the lantern on the round table in the dimness, and he leaned forward to grope for the box of matches, which wasn't there. He could now hear other voices coming from the hallway, and he got up and moved toward the sound. Then the hallway was filled with lantern light and he squinted against it. Shading his eyes, he nearly bumped into Rada. She was heading straight for Danika's room, and Winry was heading there as well from the other direction. Ed followed them in, just in case they needed him.

In her pajamas, Winry stood by the bed, holding the lantern. Danika was sitting up and Rada sat on the bed next to her, holding her and stroking her hair. "It's all right, sweetheart," she said soothingly. "It was just a bad dream, wasn't it?"

Her terrified weeping had subsided somewhat, and Danika nodded. "It was—was _horrible awful!_ " she sobbed. "I dreamed about—about that Kimlee man again!"

Ed gave a start and exchanged a look with Winry. Rada let out a sigh and held her daughter tightly, kissing the top of her head. "Oh, my poor baby! You haven't had a dream like that for a while."

"I—I—know! It was—so _bad!_ "

Ed had experienced a number of terrible dreams in his life, visions conjured up in his subconscious and grotesquely distorted. Danika had never even seen Kimblee, but he was still moving her to terror. Ed stepped closer to the bed. Perhaps he could be of some use after all. "Kimblee is long gone, Danika," he said gently. "He can't do anything to hurt you."

Danika drew in a few deep breaths, desperately trying to calm herself. "I—I know he's gone," she managed to say. "But my dream was still—still really bad! I dreamed that Kimlee was—was taking Papa away, and he said I would never ever see him again!" Her face crumpled up again and she could barely sob out, "And he _still_ didn't have a face!"

"Oh." Ed had to admit, that would have frightened him, too. "Um...you know, I think I can say that I'm the last person to see Kimblee..." _Alive?_ Because he wasn't, really. But that would have been to hard to explain. "...alive. I can tell you for a fact that he absolutely can't do anything to take your papa away."

Danika looked up at him and he continued, figuring that he was on a roll. "But you know, even if he tried, he couldn't do it, because you've got a whole bunch of people around you who will stop him."

Of course, when Ed thought about it, people who got in Kimblee's way tended to get either killed or seriously harmed. Danika didn't need to know that. She had already grown calmer and was leaning wearily against her mother.

"Do you want to come into my room for the rest of the night, sweetheart?" Rada asked.

Danika nodded, some of her misery tempered by this and Rada stood up, giving Ed and Winry a grateful look. "Thank you!" she whispered.

Winry lit the way for them as Rada led Danika into her room, then she turned to Ed, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Good job, Ed! That was nice of you."

Ed shrugged. "Glad I could help." He stifled a yawn. "But I really have had all the excitement I can take for one day without having it spill into the next day."

"I know what you mean. Good night, Ed."

"'Night, Winry."

Ed went back out into the darkened front room. He lay back down on his cushion and pulled his blanket over his head, desperately hoping he would manage to get back to sleep. A whole two years had gone by and his life was still being disrupted by Scar and his issues. Some things never changed.


	18. Chapter 18

He'd had better nights' sleep in worse places with worse smells and under worse circumstances. At one time, a blanket thrown over a thick pile of straw would have been a luxury. Admittedly, he had never woken up with a baby elephant asleep on one side of him and a tiger curled up on the other.

He had been offered a bed by a few of the circus people, but they were the female performers and he could not be sure that they did not have motives other than hospitality. They seemed disappointed when he declined their offers, which pretty much confirmed his suspicions. He supposed he ought to have been flattered, but he wasn't going to start entertaining notions like that. He was bound to one woman and hers was the only company he craved.

His master had always taught him to keep things in proportion. As absurd as this situation was, it had to be borne patiently. He had to keep the welfare of his family and his people in mind. Like all trials, it would pass. But being separated from his wife and his children struck him deeper than he imagined it would and his heart already ached for them.

Once he got up and began his morning meditative rituals, he would be better prepared to face another day. First, though, he had to actually rise, and he had to do that carefully. He was a guest of these people and their beasts, and he did not want to be a burden to them or worse, harm them. One shoulder was partly wedged against Petal's back, but she was still a baby and a sound sleeper. Snickers, on the other hand, was a predator and might react badly to being disturbed. But as Scar cautiously turned to his side and raised himself up on his elbow, the tiger just cracked open one eye with a brief look of mild annoyance and went back to sleep.

Scar headed for the opening of the tent and found his way blocked by the other tiger, Toodles. She was sprawled on her back, apparently sound asleep, but as soon as Scar drew closer, she flipped onto her belly and into a ready crouch, regarding him with indulgent warning.

"It's early," Scar said in a low voice. "No one would be outside looking for me at this hour."

Toodles, he had been told, was much more serious-minded than her brother. She apparently didn't care how early it was and her yellow-eyed stare didn't waver. Scar yielded the battle to her and turned away from the exit. As genteel and refined as Heinkel claimed she was, Scar had no doubt that she would not hesitate to enforce her self-proclaimed and well-intentioned guard duties. She was beginning to remind him of Naisha.

**:0 :0 :0 :0 :0**

It would be her only chance. The morning break was twenty minutes long, and if she waited until lunch, she would lose her nerve. _Saahad_ Imir was taking Papa's place as head teacher today, and he was deep in conversation with some of the older students. Naisha was busy too, making sure the youngest children were playing nicely with each other. The rest of the teachers all seemed to be occupied with one group of children or another, or they were talking to each other. Danika kept her eyes on the schoolyard before her while she edged away toward the front gate and slipped through it unseen.

She was perfectly aware that what she was doing was wrong. Papa would probably be angry with her, and so would Mama. So would the teachers. But the faceless specter from her dream the night before still mocked and tormented her, and she would gladly face any punishment meted out to her if she could just see Papa for herself and make sure he was all right.

She had a long way to go. She had to make it all the way up through Wahir and across the stretch of desert to reach the circus. It wasn't going to be easy. It was midmorning and the marketplaces would all be busy. Everyone knew she was supposed to be in school. If anyone noticed her, they might stop her and ask her what she was doing. She could try to come up with a story, but Papa didn't like lying, and she wasn't very good at it, anyway.

She darted behind the weaver's shop, but she was too busy singing while threading her shuttle through the threads on her loom. The baker's wife was singing, too, praising the freshness of the bread she and her husband were selling. The beekeeper set jars of honey out on his counter, and he sang a song of thanksgiving for not getting stung this time. Papa said that when he was little, the marketplace almost sounded like one of Dejan's concerts. Everyone sang to sell their wares and each district had its own tunes. When the Amestrians came, the Ishvalans didn't sing as much, and they sang less and less as time went by. Now they started singing again. Danika liked to think that it was because Papa had made everybody feel safe and happy. That was the way he made her feel. When he wasn't around, nothing felt right.

_Dear Ishvala, I know this is kind of bad what I'm doing, but please don't be mad at me. Please don't let anybody stop me. Please just help me find Papa. Then I'll go back to school and study really really hard and be really really good! I promise!_

**:0 :0 :0 :0 :0**

McGraw took a gulp of tea. "Oh, that's good! It's not my usual cup o' joe, but it's good!"

Greggs nodded as he took a bite of warm flatbread drizzled with honey. "Yeah, I gotta say, the grub here isn't too bad. It's about the only thing here that's been any damn good so far."

"I don't know if I can take another night like that," Bates grumbled, inspecting a ripe apricot. "I'm gonna be picking straw outta my shorts for a week!"

"Well, if you wanna walk back to Central, Bates, I'm not gonna stop you," McGraw told him.

Greggs sucked honey off his thumb. "I wonder how long that would actually take."

McGraw frowned at him. "You're not going anywhere, Greggs! You're my photographer."

Greggs shrugged. "Just wondering."

"We're here for the scoop of the year, gentlemen," McGraw said to them firmly. "And I, for one, have no problem with suffering a little discomfort for that."

"Is this really the scoop of the year?" Bates asked in reply. "I mean, honestly!" He lowered his voice. "Does anybody really care about what goes on in this place?"

"A lot of people do," McGraw returned. "Particularly if we can scare up a certain homicidal renegade who's supposed to have disappeared and who nobody seems to have seen. Or so they say." He leaned a little closer to the other two. "Haven't you noticed the same answer we've been getting? It was never actually _no, I haven't seen him_ or _there's nobody like that here_. It's been _sorry, I can't help you_."

Greggs thought for a moment then nodded. "Yeah, you're right."

"It's like they're covering their own butts or something, but they don't want to actually lie." McGraw scowled thoughtfully, gazing across the marketplace. "Maybe it's a religious thing, you—"He stopped suddenly and stared at something across the street. "Hey! Wasn't that—"

The other two reporters frowned and peered where he seemed to be looking. "What?"

McGraw set down his cup and moved away from the fountain, then moved back quickly. "It's that kid!" he hissed in a whisper, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "The little girl at the circus last night! She's sneaking along the street up there! Can you see her?"

Bates sucked in air. "Oh, yeah! I just saw her duck behind that barrel!" He stood up. "You wanna go after her?"

"Yeah, but let's take it easy," McGraw replied. "We can't let her know we're on her tail."

"Should we grab one of those rickshaw kids?" Greggs suggested, shouldering his camera bag.

McGraw shook his head. "Not this time. For one thing, they're trying to buffalo us right, left, and center. Plus, we'll be less conspicuous on foot." He adjusted the brim of his fedora and started forward. "Nice and easy, gentlemen."

**:0 :0 :0 :0 :0**

Imir strolled slowly between two rows of desks where his students had their heads bowed over their tests. He kept an eye out for the heads that were turning to catch a glimpse of what might be on their neighbor's paper. When they first started up the school two years ago, the students were crowded behind long, rough wooden planks for tables. It was territory ripe for cheating. These individual desks, donated by a couple of schools in Central City, were a vast improvement. Granted, they were second hand, and some of them had arrived with a number of crude slogans penned on their undersides which had to be scrubbed or, in some cases, sanded off. His students didn't need any fresh ideas from their Amestrian counterparts. Other than that, they were fine desks, and Imir was certainly not one to quibble. Charity, after all, was a benefit to the giver as well as the receiver.

The sound of a light, hurried footstep from outside drew the priest's attention toward the door. Naisha peered into the room to catch Imir's eye and he nodded to her, moving quietly toward the door. He stepped out to the covered walkway with her and she spoke promptly in a hushed, urgent voice.

" _Saahad_ , did you see Danika during morning break?"

Imir frowned and pulled thoughtfully on his short beard. "I'm sure I did, at the beginning, anyway. Why?"

"Because she's missing!" Naisha replied. "She didn't come in with the other children and she's not in the bathroom and she's not out on the grounds. I've asked all the other teachers and no one else remembers seeing her come back in from morning break!"

"She didn't seem unwell, did she?" Imir asked.

"She looked tired, but so did a lot of the kids this morning. They were all at the circus last night."

"Yes, that's true," Imir said with a nod. "Even my students were still going on about it." He smiled. "It's nice to know that even my jaded teenagers can still be dazzled."

"But Danika's still missing!" Naisha went on, a little impatiently.

"Yes, yes, of course! You know, it's possible that she may have been so upset about missing her father that she needed to go home and simply didn't tell anyone." Imir glanced back through the door of his classroom. "As soon as some of my students finish their test, I could send one of them to see if that's the case."

"Would you, please?" Naisha nibbled anxiously on a fingertip. "I'd go myself, but I don't want to leave Vesya to handle the whole class by herself. She's got a couple of months to go, but I don't want her to get upset and go into labor while I'm gone."

Imir regarded her somberly. "You and me both!"

**:0 :0 :0 :0 :0**

He had no projects to complete that day, and he'd had a few drinks the night before, so he was treating himself to a late morning. The scion of the noble house of Dreva could be as lazy and slovenly as he liked. Who, after all, did he have to please but himself? That was one of the many advantages of being a bachelor.

To be sure, waking up with a woman beside him would have certain advantages as well, but he was never one to settle. He'd always been particular. "Good enough" was never good enough. To take up another man's leavings would have been repugnant and unacceptable, but no other woman ever quite measured up, before or since. There was his dilemma.

Regret was a guest he seldom entertained. It tended to force its way in the moment it got a foot in the door. Then it would needle and pester him, exposing all the bleak shortcomings of the single life that he refused to acknowledge. He rolled over irritably in his bed, which didn't seem quite as comfortable as it did earlier. Regret could kiss his dusky backside.

" _Zhaarad_ Stanno!"

The carpenter groaned and dragged his pillow over his head. "Go away!" he muttered, not choosing to make the effort to actually be heard.

A rock bounced off one of the carved wooden shutters of the upstairs window. "I know you're up there, you lazy old sinner!"

Stanno threw the blanket aside and pushed himself out of bed. To have his repose disturbed was one thing. To have his handiwork damaged by some miserable punk kid was quite another. And he was not old! He stormed over to the window and flung the shutters open.

"You putrid little demon spawn!" he bellowed to the street below. "The next rock you throw at my house is going straight up your ass! Why aren't you working?"

"Well, that's just it," Atash called up, unconcerned by Stanno's threat. "I've been treating those Ammy reporters like gold, just like you said. I even got 'em breakfast."

Stanno gave a groaning sigh and rubbed his face. "That's wonderful, Atash," he muttered. "You'll make somebody a fine little wife someday."

Atash rolled his eyes. "Then when I came back around to see if they wanted me to pull them anywhere, they gave me the brush off, and not just me either! Yoru and Salar had the same thing happen to them! And not just that, _Zhaarad_!" the puller went on. "I just saw a bunch of those paperboys heading north out of town."

Stanno frowned slightly. "North? You mean toward the train station?"

Atash shrugged. "The train's not due till tomorrow. So either they've had enough here and they're going to camp out at the station, or they're heading toward the circus. Maybe they want to poke their noses around there in the daylight."

Stanno drummed his fingers on the sill. "Huh. Maybe…"

"Anyway, we pretty much sucked 'em dry!" Atash grinned. "They probably can't afford us anymore."

"Either that or they've caught on to you," Stanno remarked. "So that's what you woke me up for?"

"Uh…yes." Atash seemed a little deflated. "I thought you'd want to know." He scowled. "Besides, it's almost noon and your shop isn't even open, Chieftain of Kanda!"

Stanno flung his arm irritably toward the street. "Just get back to work!"

He moved away from the window, grabbing a shirt from the back of a chair as he passed it. It was passably clean, but he made a mental note to send his laundry over to the widow across the street at the first available opportunity. He pulled the shirt on over his head and found himself facing the mirror that hung on his wall. It was one of a set of cheap mirrors he'd gotten through Havoc's store that he had carved a frame for and marked up. They'd been selling well in Amestris.

He peered closer at the reflection of his face. He was only in his mid-thirties, but it was possible that time and dissipation were beginning to take their toll. Then again, he was still remarkably good-looking, even if he said so himself. Those lines that were starting to form around his eyes just gave him character. He gave himself an encouraging grin and headed out of his bedroom and downstairs. He turned into his small kitchen and made a perusal of the contents of his pantry, which turned out to be somewhat disappointing. He frowned into the can in which he stored his tea, finding only a few scant leaves. When did that happen? He would have to get over to the marketplace sometime today. In the meantime, he would go out for breakfast. He let out a short chuckle at the image of Atash scuttling about like some old baata, fetching and carrying food for those Amestrians.

His smile faded. So what were those reporters up to? As he slipped on his sandals before going outside, a thought started niggling at him. He resented the fact that such thoughts should be visiting him at all. Yes, he had a responsibility to his people. He was chieftain of Kanda, after all. But he didn't feel like getting tangled up in this business any more than he had to. Then again…

He shook his head with annoyance and stepped out into the bright midmorning sun, heading toward the marketplace. Who, he reminded himself, did he have to please but himself?

**:0 :0 :0 :0 :0**

She was a good girl and a bright student. She was both honored and pleased by being entrusted with this errand by _Saahad_ Imir, having been the first to complete her test. But she was also seventeen, and she had a crush on the blacksmith's apprentice. As she passed through the artisan's quarter near the main marketplace of Kanda, she paused by the forge and her heart fluttered.

There he was, tall, handsome, his muscles glinting with sweat as he raised his hammer to bring it down on the glowing bar of iron. She gave a little jump at the loud clang and the leaping sparks. The young man glanced up and gave her a nod and a smile, his white teeth gleaming brilliantly against the tawny skin of his face.

Then his master stepped out and gave the girl an indulgent look and his apprentice quickly went back to his work. The girl remembered that the blacksmith was Saahad Imir's brother, and her teacher would more than likely hear about her being distracted from her duties. She hurried on her way, but at least she got a smile that really meant something, she was sure!

**:0 :0 :0 :0 :0**

Winry tipped the watering can over the plants in the garden that adorned the front of the Ruhad house. She gently nudged Mattas, who kept coming over and thrusting his hands under the shower of water and giggling.

"Ed, would you get him, please?" Winry called. "He's going to get soaked and Rada's already finished her washing."

"Come here you!" Ed came up to Mattas with his arms stretched out and the little boy let out a delighted yelp and started to scamper away. But Ed caught him easily and swung him up onto his shoulders. "Now, where's that sister of yours? Let's go get her!"

Ed trotted away after Little Winry, who was busy walking around and around the fountain. Ed set Mattas back on his feet and sat down on the flagstones of the courtyard, letting the two toddlers tackle him. Winry smiled and went back to her watering. She pulled a few weeds from the dirt between the plants and set them in a bucket with the rest of the garden refuse. Rada had spent another morning cleaning the living daylights out of her house, and Winry thought it best to get Ed and the kids out of her way. After a while, she straightened up, rubbing the small of her back and looking across the courtyard. Ed now had a toddler firmly clamped to each calf and was trying to walk. Then Winry saw the approach of an Ishvalan girl, which struck her as slightly out of the ordinary, since school was in session.

The girl came up to the front of the house a little hesitantly but was heartened by the smile Winry gave her.

"Hi, how are you?" Winry greeted her.

The girl gave a little bob of her head. "Hello, _Zhaarana_. I need to talk to _Zhaarana_ Rada. Is she home?"

Winry glanced toward the house. "She is, but she's kind of busy right now. Is there something I can help you with?"

The girl hesitated only slightly. "Well, maybe. Is Danika here? Did she come home?"

Winry frowned a little and shook her head. "No, she didn't. I've been here all morning and I haven't seen her since she left for school."

The girl looked a little disconcerted. "Oh. Well…I wonder where she's gotten to, then."

"She's not at school?" Winry asked, beginning to grow a bit alarmed.

"No, _Zhaarana_ , she's not," the girl replied. " _Saahad_ Imir sent me to see if she'd gone home."

Winry held up a finger. "Wait right there! I'll go get Rada!" She set down the watering can and hurried into the house. Striding through the front room and down the hallway, she called out, "Rada?" Getting no answer, she went on through the atrium and out to the back yard, where she found Rada hanging laundry.

"Rada, there's a girl here from the school," Winry said immediately. "She was sent to see if Danika was here because they can't find her at the school."

Rada turned and stared at her over a pillowcase stretched between her hands. She didn't seem to register what she had heard at first. Then her features paled under her tan skin. "She's not…" Her mouth stayed open but nothing else came out for a moment. Then she threw the pillowcase back into the basket with the other wet laundry and ran past Winry, who turned to follow her. They went back through the house and out through the front door into the cul-se-sac. Rada glanced around swiftly to light on the schoolgirl.

"Yaza? What is this?" Rada demanded frantically. "Danika's not at school?"

"No, _Zhaarana_ ," the girl replied. The gravity of the situation was beginning to dawn on her. "I saw her during morning break," she offered. "That wasn't that long ago. Maybe an hour."

"Oh, God!" Rada covered her face for a moment to try to compose herself.

"Is there anything I can do?" Yaza asked.

Rada didn't answer right away, so Winry spoke up. "You should probably just get back to class. We'll handle things from here."

The girl nodded, and with a final look of concern at Rada, she hurried away.

"What was that all about?" Ed asked, trudging up with the twins still in tow.

"Danika's missing!" Winry told him quickly. "We need to look for her!" She bent down and pried Mattas off Ed's shin. Picking him up and settling him on her hip, she turned to Rada, putting a hand on her shoulder and giving it a gentle shake. "Let's go see if we can find one of the pullers. They might have seen her."

Rada nodded distractedly. "Yes…yes…thank you, Winry!" With a sudden burst of resolve, she collected Little Winry from Ed's other leg and marched away, the two young Amestrians hurrying after her. For a petite woman, she could move pretty quickly. They rounded out of the cul-de-sac and toward the marketplace, where it was most likely for any of the pullers to be. As it turned out, they didn't have to go that far. They came across Atash, who was dozing on the seat of his rickshaw, the shafts propped against the top of a low wall in front of a house. He woke with a start as Rada slapped his knee.

"Atash! Have you seen Danika anywhere?" she nearly snapped at him.

"Huh…what…no!" Atash stared at her for a moment. "No, sorry, _Zhaarana_."

Rada jerked her head peremptorily toward the shaft handles of the rickshaw. "Get out and take me to the marketplace!"

Atash scrambled to his feet and jumped over the footrest of the rickshaw, gripping the shafts and turning it around. "My feet are like wings, _Zhaarana_!" he declared. "We'll find her!"

"We'll start looking the other way!" Winry said. "Come on, Ed!" She grabbed his arm and hauled him after her, Mattas still bouncing on her hip. He seemed to think this was great fun.

"Where's the school?" Ed asked as they strode along. "She might just be hiding nearby. Maybe she was bored. I did that a few times."

Winry managed to give him a disapproving look. "I remember! But Danika isn't like that. She wouldn't ditch school. Her father's the headmaster, after all."

Ed shrugged. "Maybe that's a good reason all by itself."

Winry let out a groan. "Oh, honestly, Ed! Maybe you'd do that, but Danika wouldn't!" They came to a cross street and she peered one way, then the other, looking for another puller. "Geez, normally you practically trip over those guys," she muttered. She turned to the right and headed down the street.

"Okay, fine," Ed conceded. "So why would a kid who normally wouldn't do such a thing suddenly decide to skip class?"

"Well, she is going through a hard time right now," Winry said.

"That's true, poor kid," Ed agreed. He shook his head. "That must have been an awful dream last night. She probably—"

He stopped suddenly and Winry had walked a short distance away from him before she realized he wasn't beside her. She turned around and saw the look on his face. "What is it?"

Ed snapped his fingers. "You know what? You remember when she took off while we were at the circus last night? We were all so relieved to find her that nobody asked why she'd gone off in the first place. She must've been looking for her dad! I bet that's where she's headed right now!"

Winry drew in a gasp. "You mean the circus? She'd go out there all by herself?"

"I wouldn't put it past her." An odd smirk pulled at his mouth. "You know, when you think about it, she could have inherited a tenacious streak from her father. Her real father, I mean. She won't rest until she finds Scar."

Winry scowled. "That's an awful thing to say!"

"Not necessarily," Ed replied with a shrug. "If she gets set in the right direction, she could put traits like that to good use."

"Well, she's not doing that right now!" Winry declared, turning around and continuing on her way. "She's just a little thing, Ed! She shouldn't be running out into the desert by herself! She's had a head start, too!"

Ed hurried after her. "If she's as fast as her mom, she could already be there."

**:0 :0 :0 :0 :0**

McGraw parted the feathery boughs of a meskaa tree and peered up the road. "Damn, that kid's fast!" he muttered under his breath.

Bates stumbled up next to him. Greggs was just behind them, trying to extract the shoulder strap of his camera bag from some lethal-looking cactus. Spines had already imbedded themselves in the leather. He crept up alongside them.

"Would you look at this?" He gestured despairingly at his bag. "It looks like it sprouted whiskers or something!"

"Don't complain," McGraw told him. "You could've gotten those things stuck in your ass." From somewhere behind them came a strangled yelp and McGraw shook his head. "Like that poor sap."

Bates scowled over his shoulder. "They've got a lotta nerve butting in on our scoop!"

McGraw pushed ahead, not wanting to lose the little girl. "Technically, Bates, this scoop is mine and Greggs'. You work for that other paper, remember?"

Greggs chuckled. "Yeah, we just let you tag along 'cause we're old school buddies."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I owe you one," Bates conceded. "But even if I wasn't in with you guys in the first place, I'd still be on your tails like the rest of those fellas back there. Everybody knows that when McGraw's on the scent, you don't want to get left behind!"

**:0 :0 :0 :0 :0**

"Another cup?"

Stanno shook his head and set the empty cup on the counter. "No, thanks. Any of those sesame rolls left?"

The tea seller shook her head. "Sorry, Zhaarad." She smiled apologetically. "I'm all out. I could send my girl around to the baker to get more if you like. It won't take but a moment!"

"That's all right." Stanno placed some coins on the counter next to his cup. "I have things to do."

He walked away from the tea shop, leaving the woman to sigh. She was fairly attractive and could make a decent cup of tea, but she wore a Xingese scarf around her neck to hide her burn scars. Others could resign themselves to that if they wanted to.

The vegetable stand looked enticing, even if the gawky stick of a girl tending it did not. Stanno paused to glance over the neatly piled tomatoes, multi-hued sweet peppers, and small, dark green hot peppers. There was a tidy stack of long green onions that were tied in bunches with a strip of their own stalks. Holding pride of place, though, were the fat, yellow sweet onions that were not only well-loved locally but were becoming very prized in other parts of Amestris. This particular market gardener was certainly doing well for himself. He'd have to, Stanno thought, if he was ever going to find a husband for that unprepossessing daughter of his.

A stirring further up the street made him turn his head. Coming toward him at a good clip was Atash, and the passenger in his rickshaw was Rada, holding one of her brood, who seemed to be enjoying the ride immensely. Rada, however, looked upset and was glancing side to side as Atash rumbled along. At one point she held out her hand and waved it.

"Atash, slow down a little!" she cried. "I might miss her!"

"Miss who?" Stanno called back as the rickshaw rolled past him. "Rada—" He started jogging after it. "Atash!" he shouted. "Stop!"

Atash looked over his shoulder at his employer and slowed to a walk. Before he halted completely, Rada cried out fiercely, "Don't you dare stop, Atash!"

Atash gave her a helpless look, then turned pleadingly to Stanno as the carpenter came up alongside and gripped the side of the rickshaw.

Rada gave him a furious glare. "What do you want?" she demanded.

Stanno stared at her, a little taken aback. Normally she was so sweet-natured, even to him on most occasions. "What's the matter?" he asked. "Are you looking for someone?"

"Yes!" Rada snapped back. "Danika's gone missing!" She struggled to hold on to her toddler and reach down to pull off her sandal at the same time. "And I'll thank you"—she smacked Stanno's knuckles with her sandal—"to not hold me up!"

Stanno gave a yelp and snatched his hand away. Rada shook her sandal at her puller. "Move, Atash!"

Stanno clamped his hand on the rickshaw again and vaulted into it, grabbing the sandal out of Rada's hand before she could beat him with it. "None of that, my girl!"

"I am _not_ your girl, Stanno!" Rada retorted. "Get out of my 'shaw!"

"It's my 'shaw, sweetheart!" Stanno waved the sandal at her. "Move over. I'll help you look!"

Still glowering at him, which Stanno found utterly captivating, Rada stayed put. "Go away! I don't need your help!"

Stanno bent down toward her. "You're in a panic, Rada, and you're not thinking clearly," he told her firmly. "Now move over and let me help you. You take one side and I'll take the other."

Torn between anguish and annoyance, Rada gave him one more scowling glare before sliding down the seat, where Little Winry grabbed hold of the side and tried to lean out. While Rada struggled to keep the toddler securely in her lap, Stanno sat back and turned to Atash.

"Get a move on, boy!"

Atash shook his head and lunged forward. As they continued to roll through the marketplace, Stanno made a serious effort to look for the little dark-haired girl. "So how did this happen?" he asked.

"I don't know!" Rada replied, craning her neck to peer down every side street and between every booth, stand, and shop they passed by. "She went to school this morning, but then she disappeared! No one saw her leave!" Her voice started to shake and turn teary. "I don't know how much more of this I can take! Everything's going so completely, miserably wrong!"

Stanno leaned forward to take a look down an alley between a couple of shops. "Don't start worrying too much just yet."

"I'll worry as much as I please!" Rada snapped.

Stanno made sure he was facing away from her so she didn't see the smile on his face. Being fiery suited her. "Go ahead, then."

"Oh, _thank_ you!" Rada let out an exasperated sigh. "First it was those godforsaken reporters," she grumbled. "Now this!"

"Well, they won't be here much longer," Stanno said easily. "As a matter of fact, they're—" He gave a start and sat upright, staring ahead for a moment. "Atash! Turn around!"

The puller skidded to a halt and looked behind him irritably. "And do what?"

"Just turn your ass around and head north out of town!" Stanno ordered.

Atash frowned then his eyes widened. He quickly maneuvered the rickshaw around and headed back the way he came.

Rada glared at him, then at Stanno. "What are you doing?" she demanded. "I've looked this way already!"

"Your little girl's gone to the circus," Stanno told her. He regarded her with a frown. "That's where they're hiding Andakar, isn't it? Kind of appropriate, I'd say." He handed her back her sandal then wished he hadn't because she promptly smacked him with it.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Stanno held up his arms to defend himself and he almost laughed. "Nothing! I just—"

They were jerked forward as Atash came to a sudden stop. "Watch where you're going!" he shouted at Yoru, who had just darted out from a side street. In his rickshaw sat Winry, Ed, and Mattas, who squealed at the sight of his mother.

"Rada!" Winry cried. "Danika's heading for the circus! We're sure of it!"

"We've figured that out already!" Stanno called back impatiently. "And if you had seen fit to let me in on everybody's little secret, _Zhaarana_ Rockbell, we could have saved a little time! As it is, those Ammy bastards are all heading out that way right now!"

Rada stared at him in shock and dismay. "Oh, no!" she gasped. "Oh, no, no, no!"

Stanno waved his arm at Yoru. "Either get moving or get out of the way!"

Both the pullers grinned. To them, this was the height of adventure. "I'll race you, Atash!" Yoru cried, turning north.

"You can swallow my dust, _yaakhtai_!" Atash called back.

The rickshaw leapt forward and Rada let out a breathless little scream as she and Stanno were slammed against the backrest. Holding on tightly to Little Winry, she gave Stanno a scathing look. "What could possibly be so funny?"

Unable to hide it any longer, Stanno grinned at her. "Sorry! I'm not taking delight in your troubles, honestly!"

Rada gave an irritated huff and turned away. She pressed her face against Little Winry's downy white hair, closing her eyes to fight back tears. "Oh, _God_ , Stanno!" Her voice was strained. "What if it all comes out and they take him away?"

"Huh! Take away the _khorovar_?" Stanno shook his head. He leaned a little closer to her, reaching his arm across her shoulders to give her a brief, reassuring squeeze. She endured it for a moment then leaned away, and he drew his arm back. There was once a time when she came to his arms eagerly, but that was another life.

"It'll be all right, you'll see," he told her, putting on a confident face. He wasn't actually sure about that, but he felt he ought to say it anyway.

**:0 :0 :0 :0 :0**

"What the hell were they doing?" Miles roared as he stormed toward the stables. "How did they let those bastards get past them?"

Sergeant Major Benjamin, whose stride wasn't as long as his commanding officer's, hurried to keep up. "Not sure, sir," he replied promptly, if a little breathlessly. "Those paper fellows could have been timing the sentries' rounds. They could be getting a little predictable."

"Predictable, my ass! We could have headed them off! But, no! Those two lazy bastards just took their sweet time about alerting anyone!"

As a fellow non-com, Benjamin felt he ought to stick up for the private soldiers. "Sir, we can't actually detain citizens just for taking a stroll out in the desert. It would look a little suspicious. I think the sentries just weren't sure what to do."

Miles swung around and Benjamin nearly ran into him. "Well, then, they need to get reeducated!" he snarled. "I want their sorry asses in front of me as soon as I get back!"

"Sir!" Well, he did what he could. Benjamin could only pity the poor grunts.


	19. Chapter 19

She didn't remember it being this far. This felt like it was taking forever. Her lungs were burning dry and her legs were threatening to fold up under her. But as soon as she saw the green pennant snapping in the wind over the big top tent, she felt a surge of strength and her legs pumped harder.

The desert scrub and drooping _meskaa_ trees fell away and Danika ran across the open area toward the tents. She didn't see anyone immediately, but she could hear voices in the distance, either from the midway or somewhere beyond the tents. She slowed down and went on cautiously, keeping her eyes on the tents ahead. She didn't think Papa was in the same tent where she watched the circus last night. It had to be one of the others behind it. With another cautious look around, she made a final sprint across the open ground. As she got closer to one of the tents, she heard low rumblings and growling and she smiled. It came to her as a great comfort knowing that Papa had Hyacinth and Petal and Snickers to keep him company.

She thought she heard a couple of human voices from inside the tent as well, and she stood very still to tell if she could recognize them, hoping that one of them was Papa's. She did not want to end up having chosen the wrong tent and have to explain why she was there. Then she thought she heard rustling sounds from the surrounding vegetation and she frowned toward the expanse of scrub, cactus, and trees that surrounded the circus grounds just a few yards away. She didn't see anything, so she dismissed it as the wind. She turned her attention back to the tent, moving stealthily along the side, running her hand along the expanse of canvas. She drew closer to the tent flaps and stopped.

"Papa!" she called out as loudly as she dared. To her dismay, there was no immediate reply. She began to lose heart and she called again, this time a little louder and with desperation in her voice. "Papa!"

One of the tent flaps was flung aside and the sound made her jump and back up a few steps. But there he was! From his stern, scarred face, to the golden gleam of the talismans that hung at his throat, to the chuva bravely emblazoned across his chest, to his tall, indomitable figure, he was the embodiment of everything wonderful and comforting and safe. He looked astonished at seeing her, and she was afraid that he would scold her and send her straight back home, but then his features softened. He stepped away from the tent toward her and dropped to one knee, holding out his arms.

"My dear one!" he breathed.

Danika gave a soft little cry and flew into his embrace, throwing her arms around his neck and holding him as tightly as she could. She had meant to be very brave. She had come all this way by herself, after all, and she had been rather clever about it, too. But she couldn't help crying just a little.

"I ran away from school, Papa, and I didn't tell anybody, and I'm really, really sorry, but I missed you so much!"

He kissed her above her temple. "I missed you, too, little one," Scar told her softly. His voice was so warm and not even a tiny bit angry.

Danika loosened her hold around his neck and rested her hands on his broad shoulders and gazed mournfully into his face. "I had to come, Papa!" she explained, the words all tumbling out. "I had such a bad dream last night where that Kimlee man took you away! I know it was just a dream and it's not real, but I just _had_ to find you!" She gave a little sniffle. "You're not mad at me, are you?"

Scar cupped her face in his hands, brushing a tear away with his thumb. A look of deep tenderness crossed his features. "My poor little blackbird! How unhappy you've been!" he said softly. "No, I'm not mad." He smiled and kissed her forehead. "Not at all." He searched her face. "Is your mother all right?"

Danika gave a little shrug. "Mostly. But she's been kinda grouchy."

Scar raised his eyebrows, a bit amused. "Grouchy? Your mother?"

Danika nodded emphatically. "I know, huh?"

Scar's eyes closed for a moment and he pulled Danika a little closer to touch his forehead to her. "Oh, my dearest!" The way he spoke made Danika wonder just who he was talking to. "I wish I could have spared you this."

He sounded so sad. Danika patted him on the shoulder. "But it'll be all right, won't it, Papa? When all those people go home, it'll be all right."

"I suppose it will," Scar replied wearily. "It will only—" He stopped suddenly and frowned past Danika's shoulder, his eyes scanning the desert foliage some distance behind her. With a wary expression he started to rise. "You'd better come—"

The next instant he threw his arms around her and crouched down, holding her close against him. With a deep snarl, an orange and black blur flew over them and disappeared into the desert. There came the sound of crashing and rustling, followed by a chaos of shouts and screams as a horde of people came flying out into the open. Snickers bounded after them as joyfully as a kitten with all the balls of yarn he could dream of. He picked one individual out of the crowd to finally knock down, and he then sat on him, looking extremely pleased.

The rest of the reporters froze, but since the tiger was no longer chasing any of them, several of the photographers had the presence of mind to point their cameras at Scar. The big Ishvalan had straightened up to grimly survey the scene before him. He did not move to offer any aid to the reporter whom Snickers had chosen to sit on, but neither did anyone else.

Struggling under the tiger's weight, McGraw grunted out, "Greggs! Take the damn picture!"

Greggs looked from him to Scar, then back again. He raised his camera and pointed it at McGraw , pressing the shutter. "Sorry, I couldn't pass that up," he said, advancing the film. Then he pointed his camera at Scar and snapped.

Danika stared in dismay and confusion at what was unfolding in front of her. It came to her as a complete shock that any of the Amestrian reporters had been anywhere in the area. Had they been waiting out in the desert all night for Papa to finally emerge, or had they—

Danika drew in a slow gasp. Did they follow her? Had she led them straight to Papa? "Oh, Papa!" she breathed in a horrified whisper. "I didn't know!"

Scar didn't reply, but he placed his hand reassuringly on her head.

Heinkel stormed around the side of the tent, roaring at Snickers. "Get over here, you damn overgrown tabby!"

Snickers blinked at him, then obediently, if grudgingly, got off of McGraw and padded over to Heinkel's side. The chimera glared helplessly at the crowd of reporters. "Damn!" he muttered, leaning toward Scar. "Don't you think you ought to make yourself scarce?"

Since it appeared that they were in no danger of being eaten alive, the reporters advanced cautiously, staring with fascination at Scar, snapping pictures or scribbling furiously in their notebooks. He shook his head, regarding the reporters with distaste and dark resignation. "It's a little late for that."

Having retrieved his hat and brushed the dirt from his clothes, McGraw was the first to come forward, undaunted. "Well, I, for one, am glad to hear that," he remarked, taking out his notebook and pencil. "I think we can dispense with the obvious." He considered Scar with a cordial, somewhat exultant look. "So, Scar, if you don't mind me calling you that," he began. "You have, shall we say, an impressive record to your credit, the deaths of a considerable number of state alchemists and perhaps a few other casualties along the way. What have—"

Scar cut him off. "Am I on trial?" he growled.

McGraw paused as though the question surprised him. He shook his head and smiled blandly. "Not by me. This is just an informal interview. But since you mention it, do you foresee yourself being put on trial?"

"Is that why you're here?" Scar asked in reply. "To see that I am?"

"Oh, no," McGraw assured him. "I'm nothing more than an objective observer. I let others do the op-eds."

The other reporters, heartened by McGraw's boldness, pressed further. One man held up his pencil. "Was it strictly revenge that led you to commit all those murders?"

Another called out, "Were your actions premeditated? Did you stalk your victims?"

"How did you manage to locate all those alchemists?"

"Was this some sort of religious crusade you were one?"

Scar glared with mounting, desperate fury as the reporters bombarded him with their rapid-fire questions. He finally drew breath to speak, but Heinkel nudged him.

"Don't!" the chimera muttered. "You don't have to say a damn thing!"

McGraw's glance flicked to Heinkel and he pointed the tip of his pencil at him. "You appear to have some supporters here," he remarked. Then his gaze fell on Danika. "Not to mention some family." He looked back at Scar. "Is your little girl aware of your past?"

Scar drew Danika closer to his side. "My family has nothing to do with my past." The tone of his voice grew menacing.

Danika wasn't sure why they were saying those things about Papa about or why they wanted his picture so badly. She didn't quite understand why the hand on her shoulder felt so heavy or gripped so tightly. She was confused and felt a growing dread. She had prayed that she should find Papa, but she didn't think about what might happen after that.

**:0 :0 :0 :0**

Roy rolled up the window and settled back in his seat. "Well," he declared. "This should be interesting." He pointed to his left for the benefit of the driver. "Head up this road here, Lars, and take it easy. We don't want to get too far ahead of our friends back there."

"We don't want to lose any more time, either," Riza said from the back seat.

Roy looked over his shoulder at her and at the other passengers in the large black car. It was a very fine automobile, Amestrian engineering at its finest. Despite having travelled all night, it had been a comfortable ride. Even on this bumpy dirt road, the suspension on this machine was smooth as cream. He could definitely get used to this.

Even Mrs. Bradley, who was not a young woman, was showing no ill effects from this hastily planned road trip. She seemed to be quite enjoying herself. "This really is thrilling, isn't it?" she remarked. "Really, General Mustang, I can always count on you to make things exciting."

Roy laughed quietly. "Do you know something, Mrs. Bradley? I think I could say the same thing about you."

Mrs. Bradley turned to peer out through the heavily tinted back window. "That is Edward Elric, isn't it?" she asked.

Roy grinned. "It is, indeed. I had no idea he was here, but it seems very fitting, don't you think?"

Selim stood on the seat, wedged between his mother and the other bodyguard, Bruno, who kept a secure hold on his young charge. The little boy bounced excitedly on the seat and pointed out the back window. "Mama! Look!" he piped. "A horsie!"

"Yes, dear," Mrs. Bradley replied patiently. "But you should sit down properly now."

Roy turned again and peered through the darkened glass. He chuckled and settled back in his seat. He couldn't have planned this any better.

In a matter of a few more minutes, they reached an open area cleared of vegetation. Ahead of them stood the large tents of Circus Chimera. Off to one side stood a cluster of people grouped by one of the tents.

"All right, Lars," Roy said to the driver. "Pull up right there."

The black car slid to a halt and Roy opened his door and stepped out. Reaching back into the car, he pulled out the long jacket of his dress uniform and shrugged into it. He quickly did the buttons, keeping one eye on the road they had just driven up. Pushing his hair back, he donned his military cap, completing the ensemble. He turned away from the car and strode with leisurely confidence toward the crowd of people, his dark eyes making a quick assessment of the scene, which definitely seemed tense. It looked rather like a standoff.

He raised an eyebrow. Elephants, huh? Well, why not?

**:0 :0 :0 :0**

McGraw glared impatiently at the large and apparently annoyed elephant that was being held back by a young man with a slight build that seemed singularly inadequate for the task. Amazingly enough, though, he seemed to have the situation in hand, considering there were two other elephants just behind the first one who seemed to be taking their cues from her. It was quite possible that with one word from that kid, they could all be trampled. This was a lawsuit waiting to happen, and with as much satisfaction as he might get from that, considering the hardship and total lack of cooperation he'd suffered to get this far on this story, McGraw put that thought aside.

"You know," he said with some frustration, addressing Scar. "I'm gonna level with you. I'm gonna write this story whether you answer my questions or not. But if you at least throw me a bone, I promise I won't misquote you."

:0 :0 :0

Danika recognized the man who was talking as one of the men that spoke to her the night before. The two men just behind him were his companions. She instantly despised them. She hated all these people. Why were they saying such hateful things about Papa? It wasn't right, and her small, slender frame filled with a rage that she couldn't contain. She began to tremble and her heart started to pound wildly, and it frightened her. Her eyes welled up with tears and she felt a weight press against her chest. She hadn't felt this way in such a long time, not since Papa told her she was a good girl and she didn't have to be afraid or angry anymore. But this was different. These people were trying to hurt Papa somehow, and Papa didn't even seem to be able to do anything about it. Well, she would!

She pulled away from her father's side and stepped forward. "You stop it right now!" she cried with breathless fury. "You leave my Papa alone!" She spied a small rock on the ground and she lunged forward to grab it. Just as her fingers closed around it she felt herself scooped up into Papa's arms.

"Danika, stop it!" he warned her.

"No!" She struggled with uncontrollable anger and threw the rock.

The reporter in front held up his notebook and the rock bounced off of it. He fixed Danika with a look and she glared back at him, struggling in her father's arms, her blue eyes on fire.

"She sure seems like a chip off the old block," he remarked as surprised, amused, and even a few angry murmurs rumbled behind him. To Danika he said, "Are you planning on taking after your old man?"

If Danika thought she was angry, she stilled when she heard the hiss of breath that Papa sucked in. It was not even a loud sound, and maybe she was the only one who heard it, but it was filled with more ominous peril than anything she could manage.

"Keep this up," he told the reporter, his voice low and scary, "and you'll see what I did to—"

"Hey!" One of the other reporters dropped a hand on McGraw's shoulder and jerked his head to something beyond their gathering. "Get a load of the fancy set of wheels!"

She didn't feel as though the situation had been remedied in the long term, but Danika was still relieved at the momentary distraction. Still gripped in her father's arms, she turned to look at what had attracted everyone's attention. A big black car had stopped a short distance away and one of the doors opened up. A man stepped out, then reached into the car again to pull out a long blue coat. When he straightened up, Danika gave a little gasp.

"Papa!" she whispered. "That's—"

"I know," Papa whispered back. The menace hadn't entirely left his voice, but now he sounded puzzled as well.

"Holy cow!" Greggs remarked under his breath, quickly advancing his film. "That's Brigadier General Mustang! What's he doing here?"

"What do think?" McGraw said in a satisfied tone with a nod toward Scar. He made a few rapid notes in his book. "Now we're gonna get some serious copy!"

General Mustang put his cap on his head, and clasping his hands behind his back, he strolled over to the tent. The crowd parted to let him through, and the reporters eagerly blurted out more questions.

"General Mustang! Sir! Have you come to finally arrest the fugitive, Scar?"

"Brigadier, how did you finally track him down, and why did it take so long?"

"Are you going to try to apprehend him by yourself? Did you bring reinforcements?"

"Were you planning on using your flame alchemy?"

Danika went from jubilance to astonished fear and outrage. Was that why _Zhaarad_ Roy was here? She stared at him in disbelief. She thought he was their friend!

**:0 :0 :0 :0**

Other than to raise his hand, Roy ignored the questions. He was impressed and gratified with the way the crowd parted for him. It was all he could do not to grin like an idiot.

He approached Scar, who looked like he'd had a rough night. Danika hung in his embrace, her father's tattooed arms tightly around her. Judging by the way the little girl was glaring at him, it appeared she was getting the wrong impression from his sudden arrival. He gave her a ghost of a smile and a wink, then turned his attention to her father.

"Good afternoon, your honor," he said in a calm, carrying voice, then added as an afterthought, "Goodness, it is after noon by now, isn't it?" He pulled his silver watch from his pocket and flipped it open. "So it is." Snapping the watch closed, he looked up again to meet Scar's wary gaze and gave him a disarming, if cryptic smile. He then turned to face the assembled reporters.

"I'd like to thank you all for being here today," he announced. "As soon as our company is complete, we can commence—ah! Here we are!"

The thunder of hoof beats heralded the arrival of Colonel Miles, who reined up near the edge of the crowd and dismounted. His crimson eyes flicked from the black car to the crowd, then took advantage of the parting of the crowd to stride up to General Mustang. He brought his heels smartly together and snapped a salute.

"General Mustang, sir!" His deep voice was crisp.

"Colonel Miles! A pleasure as always!"

Miles didn't seem to entirely reciprocate that sentiment, although he kept his crimson gaze enigmatic. For the sake of expedience, Roy had to leave out a number of crucial details when they met briefly on the road. He just told them all to follow the car. The reporters were growing increasingly bewildered and, unable to contain themselves, a few of them ventured to call out more questions.

"Colonel Miles, were you aware that—"

"Was this part of a covert—"

"Thank you, ladies and gentleman!" Roy cut them off. "If you could just bear with us for a few more moments."

Two rickshaws came trundling up and stopped, their pullers winded. With one of her twins held tightly in her arms, Rada stood up and was helped out of the rickshaw by her fellow passenger, Stanno. The instant her foot hit the ground, she ran through the crowd to her husband's side. She was followed not just by Stanno, but also by Edward and Winry, who held the other twin. Both toddlers gabbled with delight at the sight of their father.

"Mama!" Danika cried.

Scar stared in amazement at the newcomers. Danika squirmed in his arms and he distractedly set her on her feet. The little girl threw her arms around her mother. "Mama! Mama! I'm so sorry I—"

"Hush, baby!" Rada whispered to her soothingly, stroking her hair. Her attention was more focused on her husband, who held his arm out to her. The look on his face was a mixture of relief, affection, resignation, and tension, a look that she shared with him. He pulled her closely to his side and faced the crowd in front of them. Scar also exchanged a brief glance with Miles, who was unable to either enlighten or assure him.

Roy gave Rada a warm smile and touched his fingers to the bill of his cap. "How are you, Mrs. Ruhad? You look lovely as ever, if I may say so."

Rada gave him a confused, helpless look, her dusky features a little pale. She clung possessively to her husband with one hand and her baby with the other. "I…uh…hello…" she stammered.

Roy then turned to the other newcomers. He held out his hand to Stanno. "And the chieftain of Kanda! Thank you so much for coming, _Zhaarad_ Stanno!"

The carpenter clasped Roy's hand. Being something of an opportunist, he seemed to be taking all of this in his stride, even if he had no idea what was going on. "My pleasure, Brigadier!"

"Fullmetal! What a pleasant surprise!" Roy grabbed Ed's hand, pumped it a few times, and shoved him to the side.

Ed had to take a moment to regain his balance. "Brigadier, what the he—"

"And Miss Rockbell!" Roy went on, cutting Ed off and steering Winry toward him. "How nice! Can I have you stand over here next to Ed? Thanks."

Roy stepped back to admire the tableau before him. He couldn't have arranged this any better if he had tried. He secretly gloried in the bewildered, anxious looks on the faces before him, but the elephants were absolutely the icing on the cake. He would have to get a copy of one of the photos that were being taken. He turned back toward the reporters, who had now been joined by a number of the members of the circus. "If I could ask you all to step back just a little? We're getting a bit crowded up here. Thank you!"

He turned toward the black car and raised his arm, making a beckoning motion with his fingers. The doors of the car opened again and two large men in dark suits and dark glasses stepped out. A little boy in a dapper short and vest ensemble hopped out of the car and looked around with wide-eyed wonder. Roy could hear a couple of quick intakes of breath behind him, but he kept his attention on the approaching party. On one side of the car, one of the large men held out his hand to help Mrs. Bradley step out. Even the reporters, who had probably seen their collective share of world-shaking events, murmured with amazement and waited with tense anticipation.

On the other side of the car, the other man was assisting Riza, who, despite her youth, was moving a little more slowly than the elder woman, being largely pregnant. Under one arm she carried a green velvet box. Mrs. Bradley waited for her, and the two women finally approached, the two bodyguards, Selim swinging gleefully from their hands between them, following up behind. As they drew closer to the tent, he let go of one of the bodyguards' hands and pointed excitedly.

"Mama! Mama! Look!" he piped. "Effelints!"

Mrs. Bradley beamed affectionately over her shoulder at him. "Yes, dear, elephants," she enunciated for him. "Aren't they lovely?"

Roy greeted Mrs. Bradley with a smile and a slight bow, stepping aside to make room for her. He spared one more glance at Scar, who was frowning with puzzled wariness at Selim. Scar returned Roy's look with a distrustful glower, which Roy answered with nothing more than a lift of his eyebrows. He turned to address the crowd.

"This is not something that happens very often," he announced. "And I, for one, am immensely pleased and honored to be here. I will now turn over the proceedings to our own dear Mrs. Bradley."

With another bow, Roy stepped aside and Mrs. Bradley came forward. She beamed at the crowd, who craned their necks to get a look at her. Roy was filled with admiration for her. Her appearances were somewhat exclusive, but she had public relations down to an art. No, Roy corrected himself, it just came to her naturally.

Mrs. Bradley waited patiently for the last few murmurs to die down. This had turned into a rarer opportunity than any these reporters could possibly have expected, and she allowed them to gawk a little longer and take a few more pictures before she finally spoke.

"A little more than two years ago," she began in a clear, sedate voice, "our nation was faced with a very grave and terrible assault. Corrupt officials in my late husband's cabinet sought to overthrow the government and bring death and destruction to the country. A number of brave souls stood up to these vile monsters." She looked down for a moment. "My dear husband lost his life in the struggle to protect his people," she said, her voice tinged with a grief that would never completely leave her. Then she raised her head, continuing bravely. "But there are many who survived. One of these valiant souls stands before you this very day.

"Despite the unfortunate circumstances the war brought to this land of Ishval, despite the injuries inflicted on his people by the Amestrian military, this man was able to put aside his grievances and play a crucial role, one that only he could perform, in halting the wicked plot of those who conspired against the people of Amestris. Truly, this man helped saved us all from certain doom. And I am here as a spokesperson of the Amestrian government and people to offer our deepest gratitude and appreciation."

Mrs. Bradley turned to Riza and gave her a nod. Riza held up the green velvet box and opened it. Mrs. Bradley reached into the white satin lining of the box and took from it a medal of white enamel on gold. The pendant was in the shape of a rampant dragon, and it hung from a band of emerald green satin ribbon. She held it up momentarily for everyone to get a good look at it, and then she turned to Scar, smiling up into the scarred man's face.

"Governor Andakar Ruhad, on behalf of the nation of Amestris, I present you with the Order of the White Dragon, the highest award for valor that this country can bestow."

Scar stared blankly at her expectant expression for a moment as she held the loop of ribbon open in front of his face. Finally, he lowered his head so Mrs. Bradley could slip the medal over it. Roy glanced over and caught Miles' eye. The Ishvalan commander now had a slight, knowing smile playing on his lips. Scar, on the other hand, was frowning down at the medal on his chest as though expecting the dragon to sink its teeth into him.

_Haven't you figured it out yet, you big dope?_

Mrs. Bradley smiled warmly up at Scar, holding out her hand. "Congratulations!"

Hesitantly, Scar raised his hand and clasped hers. "Thank you," he murmured as the bewilderment finally began to lift.

Mrs. Bradley turned to shake Rada's hand and stroke Little Winry's cheek with her finger, then she stepped back and patted her elegantly gloved hands together. Roy promptly started clapping enthusiastically, followed quickly by Riza and Miles. Everyone else variously followed suit. The members of the circus cheered and the elephants and even the tigers joined in. The reporters, glancing at each other questioningly, applauded obligingly, if not vigorously. Roy stepped up to Scar and gave him a hearty handshake and a grin. He pointed to the medal.

"Looks good on you!" he remarked, needing to raise his voice over the applause, the trumpeting, and the roaring.

Scar gripped his hand and pulled him closer. "You are going to explain this, aren't you?" he growled.

"All in good time," Roy replied quickly under his breath. "Now cheer up and smile for the cameras."

He felt a firm tug on his coat and he looked down to see Danika clutching a handful of his uniform. " _Zhaarad_ [ Roy! What happened?" she demanded anxiously. "What did that lady do?"

Roy ruffled her hair and gave her a reassuring grin. "Something kind of brilliant," he told her.

Mrs. Bradley turned to the assembly of reporters with a benign smile. The awe she inspired in them was on an entirely different level from what they felt on seeing Scar. After a few more flashbulbs went off, the reporters politely raised their hands. Mrs. Bradley nodded to one of the men at the front of the crowd.

"Nathan McGraw, Central City Times," McGraw introduced himself. He glanced down at his notes with a frown, then looked back up to consider Mrs. Bradley. "Honestly," he began, "I'm not exactly sure where to start. Uh…" He leaned slightly to one side to take a look at Scar. "The…um…individual standing there behind you is—was—to the best of my knowledge, wanted for a string of murders. Just now, we all witnessed him receiving a highly prestigious award from the Amestrian government." McGraw paused for a moment, and the other reporters hung on his silence, since it seemed as though he was speaking for all of them. He spoke his next question carefully. "Is this medal being granted in lieu of a pardon?"

Mrs. Bradley's smile faded a little and she took on the expression of a school teacher before a not-quite-bright student. "Young man," she replied. "Were you listening to what I said just now?"

McGraw flinched slightly, partly at the question posed to him as well as Greggs snapping another flash photo right next to him. "Yes, ma'am, of course I did. It's just—"

"Then I think there's really no question as far as a pardon is concerned, don't you think?" Mrs. Bradley said. Before McGraw could reply, she went on. "It seemed to me that it would be a much more positive and constructive gesture to award a man for a deed of tremendous heroism than to pardon a man for deeds that were…well, shall we say, not so heroic."

She waited a moment while the reporters all frantically scribbled in their notebooks. "It's not just Ishval that needs to be rebuilt, but really, all of Amestris. I don't just mean rebuilt physically. At one time, this county looked up to its leader, my dear husband. Since his passing, this country needs a new set of heroes." She raised a hand toward Roy. "Heroes like Brigadier General Mustang." She turned toward Miles. "Colonel Miles, not to mention his former commander, Major General Armstrong." She tilted a smile toward Ed. "Of course, Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist." She gestured with a gloved hand toward Scar. "And Andakar Ruhad of Ishval. It is on this rather substantial collection of shoulders that the future of this great nation rests. To consider the issue of a pardon is to dwell too much on a past that had been manipulated by those who sought power at the expense of this country's people."

Beaming with gentle satisfaction at her audience, she waited politely to be bombarded with further questions. The hands of nearly all the reporters shot up, but a number of them didn't wait to be called on.

"Mrs. Bradley, were you sent here at the request of Fuhrer Grumman?"

"Mrs. Bradley, would you say that your late husband would have made the same decision?"

A number of other questions were blurted out, and Mrs. Bradley nearly blushed as she tried to sort them all out. Then one question rang out apart from the others.

"Mrs. Bradley, have you considered running for Fuhrer when the elections come up?"

Mrs. Bradley gave a little start of surprise. So did Roy. Then Mrs. Bradley took a moment to consider the question. Roy stood with a faint smile stuck to his face and he could feel a trickle of sweat run down his back.

_Oh, God! Ishvala! Whoever! Please! No!_

Finally, Mrs. Bradley smiled and shook her head. "No, I don't think so. I have rather enough to occupy my time as it is," she said. "But," she added with conviction, "rest assured that whoever occupies the seat of authority over this great nation of ours, I will be more than willing to offer what wisdom I possess or whatever help I can supply."

Roy let out what he hoped was not too obvious a sigh of relief.

**:) :) :) :) :)**

"Andakar, what does it all mean?" Rada hissed to him in Ishvalan. "Does this mean you don't have to hide anymore?"

Scar surveyed the crowd before him. The focus seemed to have shifted from him to Mrs. Bradley as she held court, but he still held himself tensely.

"I think that was the point to all this," he replied. He tightened his hold around Rada's waist and she pressed close to him. "I love you!" he murmured to her.

"Oh, my dearest!" she breathed in a choked voice, turning her face into the hollow of his shoulder.

He hoped he would not be called upon to speak or answer any of these insipid questions. He could not trust himself to not rage at these reporters and tell them to never set foot on Ishvalan soil again. This bit of metal and ribbon may have served to lift one burden from him, but it placed a new one on his shoulders. He would miss being anonymous.


	20. Chapter 20

If he deserved a medal for anything, it would have been enduring that whole ordeal. Everyone else seemed so pleased. Mustang beamed with expansive pride at what must have been his brainchild. Rada was nearly giddy with relief and utterly charmed the reporters. One of them had the temerity to suggest that the reason Scar had been living here in secret all this time was to keep such a lovely lady all to himself. Rada giggled so sweetly in reply that he didn't have the heart to threaten the man with the serious bodily harm he deserved.

The reporters gorged themselves on this feast like a flock of carrion birds. They seemed just as delighted to record the new of turn of events as they were with the possibility of him being arrested. It was indecent. Mustang told him in an undertone that if he couldn't bring himself to smile, he should at least look dignified and not like he wanted to start another murder spree.

Then, for Mrs. Bradley's benefit, Darius and Heinkel quickly organized their troupe for what they jokingly referred to as a command performance. Scar was desperate to go home, but Danika was so thrilled that he would be able to watch the circus with her that he could hardly say no. He had to admit, Yoki put on quite a performance.

Finally, _finally_ , they were able to go home. Rada promptly sent Scar to bathe off the circus smell that still clung to him while she saw to the domestic arrangements. As it turned out, Mrs. Bradley and her son would be their guests for the night, something else he could hardly say no to. While he sat in the tub, he could hear the bustle and cheerful women's voices from the adjoining rooms while other people's possessions were moved in and out. Winry would be sharing Danika's room, and an army cot was being sent for to accommodate Selim.

Selim had given him quite a shock at first sight. He certainly seemed like a normal little boy, but he had deceived an entire nation for years. When Mrs. Bradley brought the boy over to be introduced, Scar looked down into what seemed like a pair of completely innocent violet eyes. He took the small hand that was offered in his, then, after a moment of hesitation, he covered it with his other hand, almost afraid of what he might discover. Not having a previous frame of reference, he wasn't sure what to compare it to. It did not feel, as he was afraid it might, like a writhing mass of souls, but it was a little hard to place. It wasn't the same sort of feeling that came from his own children, but it was not very different. He could feel a heightened sense of curiosity, but no malevolence or any effort at deception. On top of that, Heinkel mumbled that he smelled different, and a chimera's nose was reliable. Scar could only conclude that Selim was as close to being a normal child as he was ever likely to be. 

An outdoor supper was arranged by Scar's extended family, who had embraced Mrs. Bradley and her son in the boisterous and unstinting fashion that was typical of most of their undertakings. After supper they all sat around the cul-de-sac, enjoying the rest of the evening and each other's company, and listening to Dejan and his troupe play. 

Danika nestled against her father's side, content to sit there all evening. Once all the excitement had died down, she had been clinging to him, reluctant to let him out of her sight. She gazed at the enameled medal that she cupped in the palm of her hand. He could foresee that this so-called honor would make him more of a curiosity than a hero in the eyes of the rest of Amestris. He also felt that he had come by it in a very underhanded manner. 

They had played a trick, not just on the reporters, and by extension, the entire nation, but on the woman who had presented him with this bit of metal and ribbon. Scar looked across to the fountain in the middle of the cul-de-sac where Mrs. Bradley sat with Rada, Riza, and Vesya, the twins playing at their feet. The four women were deep in conversation, very likely concerning motherhood, that rippled frequently with warm laughter. Mrs. Bradley was a kind and innately good woman. Even if he hadn't taken her hand in both of his when she congratulated him a second time, he could sense that much. He had also sensed her excitement at being such an essential part of this performance, at being "in on it." But she wasn't, not really. Of course she had no idea that the man she had just presented a medal to had killed her husband. She must have always been kept in ignorance of her husband's true nature and had been led to believe that he died a hero. A lie on top of a lie. Was that a kindness? 

Roy walked over to where Scar sat in front of his house. He glanced down at the medal in Danika's hand, then smiled at the girl. 

"You must be very proud of your father," he remarked. 

Danika nodded. "Uh-huh!" 

"I haven't yet thanked you for this," Scar said, regarding Roy with a look that held a measure of irony. 

Roy lifted his hands. "It wasn't my idea!" 

Scar's brows lifted a little in surprise. "No?" 

"Nope. I just came along for the ride." Roy shrugged. "It was all Mrs. B's doing. I knew we needed to do something fast, but that didn't even occur to me. All Riza had to do was make a phone call and Mrs. Bradley came up with the rest." Roy chuckled. "She must have had that old fox Grumman shaking in his boots. I wish I'd been a fly on that wall." 

Scar looked down at the medal. "I'm surprised she went to the trouble," he remarked quietly. 

"I'm not," Roy said. "She's a very sweet lady and she generally lives quietly. But when she voices an opinion or takes up a cause, it's usually met with a lot of approval because the whole country loves her." Roy nodded down at the medal in Danika's hand. "If she thinks you deserve that, I suggest you go with it." 

Scar just shook his head. He looked down at the little girl at his side and gave her shoulders a squeeze. 

"Why don't you go play with Mika?" he suggested. "Everyone else seems to want to celebrate." 

"I don't wanna play right now." Danika gave a small shrug. "Anyway, Mika's being all grown up." She said it very matter-of-factly, without any apparent resentment. 

Scar searched briefly around the courtyard and saw the older girl. Mika was standing by her father and Naisha but was gazing wistfully over at Stoyan. The young man, in turn, was gazing wistfully across the courtyard at Winry, who was having some sort of minor argument with Stanno while Edward looked on with a slightly sullen look. Ever vigilant, Dejan called Stoyan over to engage him in conversation, much to Mika's delight. 

"She's only eleven," Scar remarked. "She can't be that grown up. She's certainly too young to be contemplating marriage, no matter what her father thinks." 

"She's gonna be _twelve_ soon, Papa," Danika replied as though the vast gulf that lay between eleven and twelve should be obvious to anyone. Beyond that, she seemed to have little interest in anything but the medal in her hand, which she contemplated with a frown. 

The girl was silent for several moments, then she said quietly, "Did you—did you do bad stuff, Papa?" 

Scar sighed. She had heard things today that could only have troubled her, and apart from her outburst at the reporters, she had said nothing about it until now. He planned on telling her someday, but not until she was much older. Circumstances had taken a different turn. Did she want the truth or did she want it to not be true? "Yes, little one, in my folly I did." 

Danika scowled a little as she took this in, but before she could go on, Roy crouched down in front of her. "I did, too, Danika," he told her. "So did Miss Riza. There was a time when a lot of good people did bad things." 

Danika considered him somberly. "You mean, like when there was the war?" 

Roy nodded. "That's right. We told ourselves that this was a war and we had to do those things, but a lot of us knew we were doing something wrong." 

Danika's eyebrows puckered as she tried to reconcile this in her mind. Scar could feel her give a little shudder. "What about that Kimlee man?" she asked in a hushed voice. "Did he know he was doing bad stuff?" 

Roy and Scar shared a look. "You know something," Roy replied, "I'm not sure. We'll never really know." Danika gazed back at him, her eyes still troubled, and he smiled at her. "But that was a long time ago, and we've all learned a lot from our mistakes. I did, Miss Riza did, and your father did." 

Danika thought about this carefully for a moment. "So there won't be any more bad things, like a war?" 

"Not if I have anything to do with it," Roy answered determinedly. "And if I'm elected Fuhrer, I'll make sure of it! So you make sure to tell your father and mother to vote for me when the election comes around, all right?" He smiled warmly at her. "I'm counting on you to sway the household vote, Danika." 

Taking this as a grave responsibility, Danika gave a solemn nod. 

Scar gave a hint of a wry smile. "She's a bit young for you to be plying your charm on her, Roy Mustang." 

"I'm just cultivating my constituency," Roy replied smoothly, straightening up. 

"The election is nearly two years away." 

"All the more reason to start—" 

"You wanna play?" Selim blurted out. He had run up to them and halted in front of Danika, his eyes dancing with the excitement of the day's adventures. One of the bodyguards, Lars, loomed up behind him. 

Danika considered the little boy with polite curiosity and seemed of two minds about his suggestion. 

"I will keep an eye on them both, sir," Lars said to Scar in a deep, quiet voice, then added, apparently for reassurance, "Selim is a very nice little boy." 

Scar looked at the hopeful expression on Selim's face. He was the last of his kind, free from the influence of a perverted homunculus "father" and raised by a kind and loving human mother. Scar turned to his daughter. "Go ahead, Danika. Selim is our guest, after all." 

Danika looked back up at him. "Will you stay here?" she asked anxiously. "You won't go anywhere?" 

Scar nodded. "I'll stay right here." 

"You promise?" 

Scar pressed his hand over his heart. "I swear on the honor of the house of Ruhad," he replied somberly. 

Apparently satisfied, Danika slipped down from the bench where they sat. She was about to dart off, then turned back to Scar. "Oh, here!" She handed the medal back to him, then skipped off with Selim. 

Scar watched the two children as they moved around the cul-de-sac, Lars gliding along protectively in their wake. 

"That was surprisingly trusting of you," Roy remarked. 

Scar shrugged off the comment. "It seemed like a risk worth taking." 

Roy nodded in agreement. He looked out to where Danika and Selim were buzzing around the cul-de-sac and giggling. "You took something of a risk with Danika, didn't you?" 

Scar frowned slightly at the comparison, but then had to concede that it was a fair one. "I suppose. It was more than worth it. She doesn't seem to have inherited any of Kimblee's nature." His frown deepened. "I may have made a mistake in telling her about him, though. It wasn't until then that she began to have nightmares about him and she has no face to put to him." 

"Hm," Roy mused. After a few moments, he said, "I'll be in touch with you when I get back to Eastern Command." 

Scar looked up at him questioningly. "About what?" 

"Oh, just a thought…" Roy looked down toward the entrance of the cul-de-sac. "Colonel!" he called. "You've certainly put in a day's work!" 

Miles approached them, looking like Roy's comment was an understatement. He stepped up and gave a crisp salute that belied his weariness. "Brigadier!" 

Roy returned his salute. "Did you get everyone tucked in for the night?" 

Miles gave a wry smirk. "The reporters seem to have finally gotten what they came for and they've called it a day. They can tuck their damn selves in. I hope they all get fleas." He handed a small white paper bag to Scar. "As I was leaving, Darius handed me this to give to you. He said it was from _the ladies_. Then he gave me a big wink. I'm not sure I want to know what you were up to." 

Scar opened the bag, which was full of peanuts. He smiled slightly. "Some measure esteem in different ways. I can only feel humbled." 

Resolving to remain mystified, Miles turned to Roy. "Brigadier, I hope you'll accept my hospitality for the night." 

"Vesya beat you to it, Colonel," Roy replied. "She said you keep a spare room ready for when General Armstrong comes to visit and isn't up to the noise at Dejan's place. She kindly offered it to us." 

Miles nodded. "Good. And Mrs. Bradley?" 

"She's staying with me," Scar said, weariness tingeing his voice. "She and her son will use the room Winry's been using. Winry's moving in with Danika for the night. Dejan offered to put up Mrs. Bradley's bodyguards, but they won't leave her, so they'll sleep in the front room with Fullmetal. I'd go back to the circus if I could get Rada to come with me." 

Miles shook his head. "No more running away to the circus for you," he said with mock severity. "You're officially a public figure now and you have to act in a responsible manner." 

Scar held up the medal. "I was under the impression that I could now go anywhere I wished." 

"Of course you can," Roy replied cheerfully. "But as a public figure, you have to maintain a public image. You could once again end up gracing the pages of fine journals like _The Delver_." 

Scar looked revolted. "I think I'll just stay here." 

"Oh, now, don't be a spoilsport!" Roy chided him. "It's not so bad once you get used to it." 

"Shua loves it," Miles added. 

"That's because he's like a cactus wren," Scar rejoined. "He's shamelessly bold and he likes to make noise." 

Vesya waved at Miles from where she sat with Mrs. Bradley and Miles turned to Roy. "Shall we join the ladies, Brigadier?" 

"Now that we're done with our brandy and cigars?" Roy quipped as the two officers strolled away. 

Sitting alone, Scar opened his hand and considered the medal that lay there. He didn't share his daughter's reverence for the object. He had come to terms farther than he thought possible with his feelings toward Amestris and Amestrians, but the white dragon would always stir up a measure of bitterness, however deep-seated. 

He heard the faint metallic clank that signaled Ed's approach. "Shouldn't you be wearing that?" the younger man asked. "Seems to me you'd want to really flash that around." 

Scar frowned at the medal a little morosely, then looped it back over his head. "I detect a tone of envy in your voice, Edward Elric. It's unbecoming." 

Ed gave a slight shrug and mumbled, not entirely convincingly, "Hardly! Anyway," he went on, "it's not really that important to me. I'd rather be recognized for the research I'm doing." He drew himself up a little. "I'm thinking of starting a new book on alchemy." 

Scar looked up at him, unable to hide his incredulity. "A book?" 

Ed scowled back at him. "That's right! I've got the notes that my old man left behind, the ones he carried around in that suitcase of his. Plus I have plenty of my own discoveries. I feel that there's a lot of information about alchemy, and maybe even history that needs to be rewritten." 

Scar glanced across the cul-de-sac to where Roy and Miles stood talking with their wives. "There are some who might take issue with that." 

Ed rolled his eyes contemptuously. "I know, I know! _Stick to the official version_." He glowered. "I personally think it should have all been let out. The government should give the people a little credit. I think they could've handled it." 

"I agree," Scar remarked. 

Ed gave a slight frown that turned into a smirk. "There was a time when hearing you say that would really piss me off." 

"That's a sign of maturity," Scar replied. Before Ed could snap back, he went on. "Are you sure you should have left them by themselves?" He nodded toward where Winry and Stanno were still deep in conversation. The carpenter gave a sudden yelp as the automail mechanic slugged him in the arm. 

Ed looked over his shoulder and shrugged. "They're just talking shop, which is why I wandered off." He turned back to Scar. "Besides, Winry can handle herself just fine." 

"That's as may be," Scar said, a little sternly. "It doesn't mean she should have to." 

Ed's expression grew dark. "Don't start with me about Winry!" 

"Why not?" Scar countered. "Her welfare is as important to me as it is to you. And for someone who claims to be her champion, you're shamefully negligent." 

"Oh? And you became an expert when?" 

Scar gave the younger man a somber glare. "I'm not a boastful man, but if there is one thing my wife will not complain about, it is that I am not attentive." 

Ed gave a slight shudder and raised his hands. "Excuse me! I had enough trouble picturing my parents—" 

" _Shehai li Ishvala_!" Scar clapped his palm to his forehead. "And you expect a girl to marry you? Although after that pathetic excuse for a proposal, I'm surprised she's still even speaking to you! Equivalent exchange!" He glared at Ed with disapproving repugnance. "If I were a girl, I'd have spit in your eye." 

"Believe me, even if you were the last girl on earth—" Ed stopped and stared at Scar. "Wait, how do you know what I said?" 

"Winry told me. She seemed to be very taken by it but I was not impressed." 

"Well, you're not the one I was trying to impress." 

"Lucky for you," Scar replied drily. He gave Ed a critical look. "But then what did you do? You got on a train and left!" 

Ed just shrugged. "I had things I had to do. And it was only for a few months." 

Scar shook his head. "I will never understand how you Amestrians think. I was away from my wife for one day and it was near torture!" 

"It doesn't have anything to do with being Amestrian! It's just—" Ed gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "I don't even know why I'm having this conversation with you. You're the last person I need to justify myself to." The two glared stubbornly at each other, then Ed gave a sudden grin. "But if you need convincing, watch this!" 

Ed turned away and strode back over to Winry. Making a brief remark to Stanno, he put an arm around Winry's shoulders and drew her off to one side. He pulled her closer to him and spoke close to her ear. From where he sat, Scar could see the look on the girl's face change from puzzlement to surprise, and then to delight. She turned to search his features and spoke one word, which Scar thought might have been really?, to which Ed nodded in reply. Winry let out a squeal of a laugh and threw her arms around his neck. Ed glanced over at Scar with a smug expression. 

Winry spun away from Ed and hopped up and down, waving her arms. "Hey! Hey!" she cried out. Conversations died down as the others in the cul-de-sac turned to her. "Hey, everybody! Ed and I are going to get married at the end of the year! And I want you all to come!" 

Ed lost his smug look but slapped a smile back on his face before Winry turned back to hug him again. 

It took only a moment for the girl's words to register before there was a general sigh of approval and clapping. Nearly everyone drew closer to the young couple to congratulate them. Scar didn't join them, feeling duly impressed but content to remain where he was. Stoyan hung back at the edge of the crowd at first, and an unguarded look of forlorn disappointment crossed his face. He covered it quickly with a smile as he stepped forward to shake Ed's hand, then Winry's. He then drew back, the fading of his smile going unnoticed by everyone but Scar. 

_Well_ , Scar thought as he hid his own smile. _He'll get over it in time. Dejan will certainly be relieved._

Dejan was delighted. He let out a loud ululating howl and called for his musicians. Stoyan dutifully took up his flute and played along as the others formed into a line to dance. Several of the girls drew Mrs. Bradley and even her bodyguards in to join them. Danika grasped Selim's hand and reached up to take hold of Roy's as he joined the end of the line. Finally, Winry and Ed joined in as the end of the line snaked by them. Ed looked as awkward as he must have felt, but it was a simple enough dance, just a few grapevine steps and a couple of side-to-side steps. It didn't take him too long to pick it up. 

As the line circled past the fountain, Rada stepped around them and walked over to where Scar sat, holding out her hand with a playful smile. 

"You're not dancing?" 

Scar took her hand and pulled her onto his lap. "I made a solemn oath to Danika that I wouldn't move from this spot." 

"Then I won't move either." Rada twined her arms around his neck and leaned her head against his, closing her eyes and sighing with contentment. "I missed you!" she breathed wistfully. 

Scar turned his head to brush his lips against her ear. "I missed you, too. I'm sorry you had to go through that." 

"It doesn't matter now," Rada replied softly. "I have you back, and things turned out better than we could have hoped." Her fingers brushed against the medal. "This little pin changed everything." 

"Not everything." Scar turned her face toward his and kissed her. "You're still my bright sunrise." 

Rada smiled at him warmly. "And you will always be my brave hawk." 

Scar kissed her again then searched her face thoughtfully. "Rada, am I an attentive husband?" 

Rada's eyes widened a little in surprise. "Of course you are! Why do you even ask?" 

Scar gathered her closer. "I just wanted to be sure I wasn't making a claim I couldn't back up." 


	21. Chapter 21

"I think I've got more stuff than I came with." Among other souvenirs, Winry bought a small woven rug to give to Pinako. She also bought several skeins of soft goat's wool yarn to make scarves as well as several yards of white Xingese silk with which she intended to make her wedding gown. She didn't know how to either knit or sew, but she didn't think it could possibly be that hard.

Scar watched her from the doorway of her room as the girl leaned her forearm on her suitcase to try to close it, which proved inefficient. Then she sat on it, trying to reach between her legs to close the clasps, which also proved inefficient. Finally he couldn't take it any longer.

He waved her up. "Get off of there."

Winry stood up and Scar pressed his palms on the lid of the suitcase, leaning his weight on it. The two edges met neatly and Winry quickly snapped the clasps. With a triumphant grin she straightened up.

"Thanks!" Her smile faded to a frown of concern. "I hope that was everything. If I try to open that up again, it might explode."

"Just stay away from the marketplace," Scar advised. He grasped the handle of the suitcase and picked it up. He lifted his eyebrows. "How heavy was this when you came here?"

Winry shrugged. "Not too much, I guess. I carried it by myself, plus I had my other basket with the pies. I'll manage, I'm sure."

Scar set it on the floor. "Try picking that up."

Winry grabbed the handle and gave it a tug, then stumbled forward, having lifted the suitcase a scant inch. "Okay, fine. Ed can carry it."

"I'll carry it," Scar insisted. "I expect Edward will have his hands full enough. Rada's filling up your basket."

They both stood contemplating the suitcase for a few moments in an almost awkward silence, which Winry was the first to break.

"I'm going to miss this place," she said quietly.

Scar's mouth twitched in a slight smile. "This place is going to miss you." After a moment he grew solemn and added, " _I'll_ miss you."

The girl looked up at him with a smile that wordlessly answered him. Then she gave a little shrug. "Well, I'll see you in just a few months, after all." She fixed him with a stern look. "You are coming to the wedding, right? You're not going to chicken out, are you? You have no excuse to not leave Ishval anymore."

"I said I'd come," Scar assured her. "You know I keep my word."

Winry nodded with relief. "Good!" She looked up at him with anxious hope. "Because…I'm going to need someone to give me away."

Scar gave her a puzzled look. "Give you away? Whatever does that mean?"

Winry let out a somewhat exasperated breath. "I need someone to walk me down the aisle!"

Scar frowned, somewhat surprised and still puzzled. "I know our customs differ, but surely that's a task reserved for family, even in Amestrian ceremonies. Your grandmother—"

Winry shook her head. "No—I mean—I would have, except—" she stammered. "Um…you see, the custom is that…um…the bride's father does that…and…" Her voice trailed off at the look of disbelief on Scar's face. She drew herself up and lifted her chin defiantly. "I dare you to chicken out of _that_ one!"

Scar regarded her with a grave frown. "Doesn't anything about that strike you as unseemly?"

Winry glared back at him. "You told me yourself that you couldn't take my father's place but that you were the one who created that empty spot in my life, remember? Well, I'm going to have a big empty spot right next to me on my wedding day, and you owe it to me to fill it!"

Their stubborn scowls battled with each other for a moment, and Scar's was the one to give up the field. He let out a sigh and lifted his hands.

"I'm not sure what it is about you, Winry Rockbell," he said with a wry smile, "but this is not the first time you've wheedled me into some scheme of yours."

"Hey, that scheme of mine up in Baschool was brilliant!" Winry countered, pointing her finger at him. "So you've got nothing to complain about!"

Scar gave a slight shrug. "Admittedly, no. But Edward might."

"Oh, _pfft_!" Winry waved a hand. "Don't worry about Ed. I'll take care of him."

"And what about your grandmother? She could very well object to me being there at all." Scar met the girl's eyes somberly and added, "I killed her son."

Winry's eyes flicked away and she nibbled on her lower lip. After a moment, she replied, "I'll talk to her. She's…kind of surprising sometimes." She looked back up at Scar, "It might even be good for you both. I mean…this…" She spread her hands to indicate their surroundings and, by extension, their circumstances. "All this has been good for both of us, hasn't it?"

Scar considered the question with the gravity it deserved, then nodded. "Yes, I suppose it has."

Winry cocked her head a little. "You suppose?"

Scar glanced toward the door. They could hear Rada's and Ed's voices from the kitchen, as well as the clink of jars and clay pots and the rustling of paper bags as Rada filled Winry's basket with Ishvalan delicacies. He turned back to her. "I never answered your question," he said quietly. "The one you asked me in Baschool. During all the weeks you've been here, you've had ample opportunity to ask me again. But you haven't."

Winry scowled thoughtfully down at the floor, then she shook her head. "I know. I think...in a way...I figured it out for myself. Now that I know you better, I mean." She raised her head with a determined look. "Your family is everything to you. Not just the one you have now, but the one you lost. I think…I think I might have gone a little crazy, too."

Scar lifted his eyebrows in surprise. "That's…very succinct."

"That's not an excuse," Winry went on quickly. "I mean, it happened and it can't be fixed. But I…" She pressed her lips together for a moment, seeking the right words. "I understand better now. And…um…" She faltered, a frown of concentration on her face as though trying to find the courage to speak further. "I—"

Scar quickly raised his hand. "No, Winry! Don't say it."

Winry looked up at him startled. "How do you know what I was going to say?"

"Because of the effort it was costing you." Scar shook his head. "I don't want you to forgive me, not even freely."

Winry looked even more startled. "But—"

"You haven't called for my death or imprisonment, which is more than I deserve"—Scar gave a small, rueful jerk of his head—"medals of valor aside." He stepped closer to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Let me offer you this small grain of justice. Let me remain in your debt."

Winry gazed at him solemnly for a moment, then nodded. She smiled and held out her hand. "Deal!"

Scar smiled back at her and clasped her hand. He then pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly. "I will gladly walk you down the aisle, Winry Rockbell, but I will not give you away so easily."


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a couple of ideas that I wanted to do something with but wasn't sure where else to put them. So I sort of mashed them together and put them here as an epilogue.

If Scar thought things would be quiet once Ed and Winry left, he was to be disappointed. Only two days afterwards, the Chang family caravan arrived, which was always a festive event. There was a brisk exchange of goods and information, not the least of which was the news of the upcoming Elric/Rockbell wedding. Master Liwei, head caravaneer, promised to carry the news back to Lady Mei and Master Alphonse in good time.

With that task completed, Scar then turned to facing the ordeal of having workmen underfoot as they connected the telephone and power lines that had finally reached Ishval. They carried in crates of equipment and miles of cables, and the process would likely take several weeks. A telephone exchange had to be set up in one of the two vacant offices of the administrative center and operators would need to be trained to use the switchboard. Several young women clamored for the available positions, and they were interviewed and tested by the telephone company supervisor who had accompanied the workmen. Those who were able to quickly grasp the workings of the confusing spider's web of cords and plugs of the switchboard were hired. Scar still harbored serious doubts about the whole thing, but it may have only been his instinctive distrust of modern Amestrian contraptions.

His main objection, though, was that he simply did not want to be that accessible to the outside world. But as he was so often reminded, his was a public office. He could not keep the number a secret. He took some comfort in the fact that Stoyan would be the one fielding any calls in his usual competent manner.

Ideally speaking, that is.

Throughout this time, Stoyan had fallen into a distracted and sullen silence. He was a quiet young man to start with, but he seemed to have gathered an air of melancholy around him. The reason was easily guessed at. Scar was sure the young man would get over Winry in time, but by the second week, he was just as moody as he was in the first. The change was admittedly subtle. His work didn't suffer. He was never rude. But he simply wasn't himself. Scar decided that he would leave him alone for now, and when Dejan privately voiced his own concerns, Scar advised him to do the same.

At the end of the second week, however, Stoyan strode into the _khorovar's_ office and planted himself before Scar's desk in a state of subdued agitation. Scar looked up at him in surprise. He hadn't knocked or otherwise announced his entry, which was completely unlike him.

" _Zhaarad_ Andakar!" he announced. "I want to join the priesthood!"

Scar sat back in his chair and stared at him for a moment. Stoyan glared back at him with earnest defiance. Then Scar shook his head, unable to hide his impatience. "Don't be ridiculous, Stoyan!" he said tersely. "A bruised heart is not a sign that God has called you."

Stoyan bridled. "But—"

Scar held up his hand. "No. You have other obligations."

Stoyan held on stubbornly. "What if I speak to _Saahad_ Bozidar?"

"He'll tell you the same thing. He's turned away dozens before you. He is a gentle man, but he does not take kindly to having his calling trifled with. I would not advise it." Scar turned back to the papers on his desk. "Besides, you're too old to start now."

Stoyan's shoulders slumped in defeat, a picture of a lovelorn boy. Scar was torn between sympathy and irritation. "You'll get over her."

The young man looked unconvinced, but he said nothing more. He inclined his head and went back to the outer office. Thankfully, he did not bring up the subject again. But only a few days later, when Scar was walking home in the evening, he heard the rattling of a rickshaw behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see Miles being pulled up the road by Yoru.

"This is good enough," the colonel told his puller. He hopped out of the rickshaw and handed Yoru some coins.

The young man tapped his forehead in a salute. "See you tomorrow, Colonel!"

As Yoru turned his rickshaw around and loped away, Miles fell in step with Scar, giving him a wry look. "Do you know what your secretary's been up to?"

Scar cringed inwardly. "He said he had some errands to run for Naisha. Why?"

Miles chuckled, which didn't lessen Scar's sinking feeling. "A couple of hours ago he marched into my office and told me he wanted to enlist."

Scar pressed his hands to his face. " _Shehai li Ishvala!_ " he muttered.

"Yeah, that's what I said." Miles grinned. "I told him that you could barely wipe your own ass without him—"

"Oh, thank you!" Scar growled.

"—and then I told him to get lost. He tried to argue with me, saying that the military needed more Ishvalan officers," Miles went on. "I told him the military didn't need Ishvalan officers simply because they were Ishvalan." He shrugged. "Mind you, we could certainly use officers like him, but I knew why he was there and I knew he'd regret it. That fire in his eyes was not a surge of patriotic spirit."

"I appreciate your help, Miles." Scar let out an impatient sigh. "I'm going to have to sit him down and talk to him. He's taking this too far."

"Oh, he'll be okay," Miles replied dismissively. "I've seen worse cases. Pretty soon, he'll be too busy answering your phone to think about Winry."

That was not necessarily a comforting thought.

Over the next several days, Stoyan kept to his duties conscientiously, if not particularly cheerfully, but he made no other mention of wanting to be either priest or soldier. The workmen continued their labor, managing to not be too much of an irritation. They were industrious and polite, and Scar was even starting to get used to them. Near the end of one day, Scar was putting away his work when he heard a tap on the doorframe of his office. Stoyan stood in the doorway, somewhat less melancholy but no less determined looking. At least this time, he knocked.

"You can go ahead and go if you want, Stoyan," Scar said, hoping to fend off whatever was threatening to emerge. "I'll lock up."

The young man shook his head. "That's not it, _Zhaarad_."

"I didn't think so," Scar muttered under his breath.

Stoyan stepped further into the office. "I want to go to school," he said. "To university. I want to study music."

Scar's first reaction, an instinctive one, was to say no. But then he sat back and considered the young man thoughtfully. Other than having to find a new secretary, he really couldn't find anything wrong with the idea. He almost wished he had thought of it himself. "Have you spoken to Dejan?"

"Not yet. But he's mentioned before that Shua has made friends with some of the teachers at the University of Central City." A smile pulled at Stoyan's mouth, something Scar hadn't seen for a while. "They play together at their favorite taverns. They've told him that they have the best music department in the country. I'd like to go there."

Before Scar could reply, Stoyan continued with growing eagerness. "I could get a degree and come back here and teach music! I mean really teach it! And I could learn how to compose! Actual concert pieces based on Ishvalan music! And I—"

Scar had to smile. "You've convinced me, Stoyan. I think you might even be able to convince Dejan, although you're going to be sorely missed."

"I'll be back," Stoyan replied, somewhat impatiently. "And I'll come home during breaks. But I thought I would write to Shua and have him help me find out what I need to do to apply." His eagerness faded somewhat. "And…I'll need money for tuition."

"Mm." Scar thought for a moment. "I don't think you'll lack for that. I understand that the Ishvalan Foundation has funds set aside for scholarships for deserving young Ishvalans. I can't think of anyone more deserving than you." He gave a decisive nod. "I'll personally contact Mrs. Bradley."

Stoyan practically glowed. "Thank you, _Zhaarad_!"

The telephone system was not yet functional, so they had to depend on the mail to put things in motion. Thanks to the Ishvalan Foundation, Stoyan's tuition was covered. He would travel to Central and stay with Shua, who would introduce him to members of the university faculty. His acceptance was as good as guaranteed.

Much to Scar's relief, Stoyan seemed to have forgotten all about Winry in his excitement. Dejan was not so happy.

"This is a disaster!" the lanky musician moaned as he threw himself onto one of Scar's couches in an attitude of despair. "He'll be smack in the middle of all those college girls like a kid in a candy shop!"

"You can't deny him this opportunity, Dejan," Scar told him firmly. "Besides, he'll probably be too busy studying to worry about girls."

Dejan snapped his fingers and sat up. "Dad'll keep an eye on him for me!" He heaved a sigh of relief. "Ah, that makes me feel better!"

Rada sat down next to him. "Mika seems to be taking it well."

"Hmm, well, on the outside, maybe," Dejan said with a wry look. "She knows how important this is to Stoyan. But I've caught her looking a little teary-eyed a couple of times."

"Does Stoyan even know what your intentions are?" Rada asked.

Dejan looked shocked. "Of course not! I don't want him to know how I'm trying to plan his life for him!"

"Let Stoyan plan his own life," Scar chided his friend. "And if Ishvala wills it, he may yet marry your daughter."

Dejan frowned glumly. "Well, Ishvala had better keep a close eye on that boy, too!"

**~.~.~.~.~**

The workmen finally completed their work, leaving Ishval "on the grid," as they put it. The telephone on the desk in the outer office did not ring itself off the hook, as Scar feared it would, especially now that he no longer had a secretary to answer it. But other than a few times when Miles called him from the fort, mainly just to see how well it worked, the contraption was mute. Miles explained that it would be a while before the number of the government offices in Ishval would be published. With the thought of that brief respite in mind, Scar continued with his work between school and his office for another quiet week.

One afternoon, he heard a rustling from the front office, the sound of a light footfall, and the scrape of the legs of the desk chair. Scar got up and looked out through his doorway to find Mika sitting at Stoyan's former desk, her chin propped glumly on her pile of school books. She glanced up at Scar, a little apologetically.

"Can I do my homework here?" she asked.

Scar smiled. "Of course you can."

"Thanks," she mumbled, her chin still resting on her books, which she made no move to open.

Scar stepped up to the desk. "I miss him, too," he told the girl gently.

Mika shook her head. "Not like I do!" she replied in a heartfelt voice.

Scar raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps not. But you're still a bit young to be entertaining thoughts like that."

Mika looked scandalized. "I'm not thinking about stuff like that! _Gosh, Zhaarad_ Andakar!"

Scar looked away, trying not to laugh. "Sorry."

Mika's pout reappeared. "He's been with us my whole life! I just miss him being there." She gave a sniff and buried her face in her arms on top of her books. Her voice came out muffled. "It's like the sun decided to not come up in the morning."

Scar reached out and smoothed her hair. "Surely it's not that bad."

"It is so!" She lifted her head. "And he's probably gonna forget about me with all those grownup college girls he's gonna be around. And they're gonna think he's so interesting 'cause he's Ishvalan and good-looking and smart!" She dropped her head back down on her books with a small thud. "I'm doomed!" she groaned.

Scar nearly groaned himself. He prayed to Ishvala that Danika would never get like this. "You're not doomed," he chided patiently. "He asked you to write to him, didn't he? That should keep him in mind of you."

Mika considered this for a moment, then broke into a smile. "And years from now, we'll take out all the letters that we wrote to each other and read them over again! And it'll be so—"

The girl gave a little shriek and jumped as the telephone on the desk rang jarringly. They both stared at it, Mika with fascination and Scar with repugnance. It rang again.

"Let me answer it!" Mika cried suddenly. "I can take over Stoyan's job!"

"No, Mika! I'll—"

Mika ignored him and snatched up the receiver before he could stop her. She cleared her throat softly, leaning away from Scar's reach, and put the receiver to her ear. "Thank you for calling the offices of the _khorovar_ of Ishval!" She pitched her voice a bit lower, making a good attempt at sounding mature and sophisticated. "How may I help you?"

Scar watched her with trepidation as she sat listening to the voice on the other line. She frowned with annoyance. "No, this really is the _khorovar's_ office…no, Greta does not live here…No, I'm not pulling your leg…Well, I can't help that! Maybe Greta didn't really want to talk to you!" With a look of disgust, Mika dropped the receiver back onto the cradle. She looked up at Scar with a somewhat contemptuous, knowing expression. "My friend at school—Yarisa—her big sister is one of your operators, and she's not the brightest star in the sky. She should know better than to let calls through like that. You should let me handle them. You have important stuff to do."

Scar stared at her, mystified and impressed. "You…uh…still need to go to school."

"Oh, I know!" Mika replied cheerfully. "But I could come over here after school and answer your phone and stuff." She gazed up at him beseechingly. "Can I please?"

"Well…"

The telephone rang again and before Scar could even react, Mika grabbed the receiver first. "Greta still doesn't live here! You really need to—" The girl fell abruptly silent, and her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. "Oh! Yes…yes it is!" She cleared her throat again. "Uh…thank you for calling the—" She suddenly smiled and let out a giggle. "Oh, hello, Brigadier…it's Mika!" She straightened up in her chair importantly. "Yes, I'm the _khorovar's_ new secretary…oh, I should ask!" She looked up at Scar. "How much are you paying me?"

Scar held out his hand. "Just give me that thing, Mika!"

"Here's _Zhaarad_ Andakar," Mika quickly informed the caller.

Scar took the receiver from the girl and held it to his ear. "Brigadier Mustang?"

"There are child labor laws in Amestris, you know."

"I've made no such decision yet," Scar replied, glancing narrowly at Mika, who giggled and quickly opened one of her schoolbooks to hide her face.

"Well, sometimes it's good to keep it in the family," Roy said with a chuckle. "So, are you having fun with your new toy?"

"No."

"Oh, really? Miles has already called me, and Havoc rings me up at least a couple of times a day."

"How can I help you, Brigadier?" Scar prompted him, a little impatiently.

"Ah, yes. Well, I actually meant to get in touch with you sooner, but I figured I'd wait until your phone system was up and running. Do you remember our conversation when I was out there last? I said I would be in touch with you when I got back here."

Scar thought for a moment, then frowned. "Yes, I remember. You seemed to have some sort of idea. I'm not sure I like all your ideas. This telephone business, for one thing."

"You'll appreciate the necessity of it someday, trust me."

Scar rolled his eyes. "So what is this latest idea of yours?"

Mika glanced over the top of her book at Scar. He stood silently with the telephone to his ear, an increasingly solemn expression growing on his face. After a few moments, he said, "I'll have to talk to Rada first. And Danika, of course…I can see your reasoning behind it, and it's good of you to go to the trouble…yes, but it could cause more trouble than it's meant to solve…I'll let you know in a few days, after we've had time to think about it…Thank you, Brigadier."

Scar set the receiver back in the cradle and considered it with a somewhat troubled frown.

"Is something wrong?" Mika asked.

Scar shook his head. "Not really. Just…well, sometimes it's best to bury the past, and sometimes it's best to dig it up." He looked at the girl. "The trick is to know which."

**~.~.~.~.~**

This wasn't official military or government business, so Roy left his uniform at home, and when he showed up at the door of the Ruhad's, Rada greeted him with a kiss on the cheek like a family friend.

"It's good to see you, Roy! I was just about to fill the teapot. Want some?"

"Tea sounds great!" Roy replied. He turned toward the low round dining table off to the left of the front door. Mattas and Little Winry were cruising around it, babbling happily to each other. "Hello, you two!" he called to them.

Fascinated by nearly everything, they toddled over to Roy and took hold of each end of the belt on his overcoat. They started pulling him toward one of the cushioned benches around the table. "I'll…be over here," he told Rada.

Rada smiled at him and headed for the kitchen. "How is Riza?"

"Oh, she's doing all right," Roy said. The toddlers pulled him around the table a couple of times. "She's due next month, you know. That's why she didn't come with me."

"That's understandable." Rada poured out two cups of tea. "But I'm surprised you'd want to leave her."

"That's why I drove out instead of taking the train." Roy dropped onto one of the benches to avoid tripping over Mattas. "I'll be driving home first thing in the morning."

"I'll pack you some food to take with you. And I knitted a blanket for your baby. Don't let me forget to give you that." She moved over to the bench where Roy sat and handed him one of the cups. "There you go."

"Rada, you are entirely too good to me!" Roy said with a grin. He set the briefcase he was carrying on the table to distract the twins before reaching for the cup. "And I wanted to thank you for letting me do this. I realize it might have been a little presumptuous."

Rada glanced at the briefcase, and Roy thought he glimpsed a flicker of unease in her eyes, but then she smiled. "I should be thanking you, Roy. I know you mean this as a kindness." She sat down across from him. "I was surprised at how quickly Danika agreed to it. I wouldn't have thought she was ready for this, or if she ever even would be, but I think Andakar understands her better than I do. I think she also wants to be as brave as he is," she added.

Roy nodded. "She's certainly a remarkable little girl. I hope my kid turns out like her."

"Oh, goodness, Roy!" Rada laughed, standing up and heading back to the kitchen. "You deserve a honey pastry for a compliment like that!"

"I won't turn that down!" Roy said readily. He pulled his watch from his pocket. "School's out by now, isn't it?"

"Oh, yes." Rada came back with a plate of sticky, paper thin pastry layered with ground almonds and honey and cut into triangles. Before the twins could pounce on them, she picked one up and split it in half for each of them. "They'll be along any time now. Then, if you don't mind, I'm going to take these two across the street and visit with Naisha until you're finished."

Roy's hand paused as he lifted one of the pastries. "You're not staying?"

"No." Rada shook her head with a wry smile. "I'm not nearly as brave as either my husband or my daughter. That's one face I don't ever want to see again." She lifted her head and looked toward the door. "I think that's them now."

Roy heard footsteps outside, one set measured and steady, the other lighter and rapid. The latch lifted and the door swung open, and Danika rushed inside ahead of Scar. The girl stopped and gazed at Roy, her eyes wide and solemn.

Scar stepped up alongside her and placed his hand on her head. "Greet our guest, Danika," he reminded her gently.

"Hello, Brigadier Mustang!" Danika breathed, a little nervously.

Rada herded the twins toward the door, giving Scar a kiss as she passed him. "I'll be over at Naisha's," she said. "Let me know when you're done."

Roy patted the cushion next to him. "Come and sit here with me, Danika," he said. "You can help me eat these pastries. I don't think I can finish them all by myself."

Danika gave the pastries a wistful, anxious glance, but shook her head. "Not right now," she said.

Roy smiled and slid the plate aside. The poor kid probably had too many butterflies in her stomach to eat. "We'll save them for later, then." He opened up his briefcase and pulled out a manila folder and set it on the table before him. He turned back to Danika. "Now, are you sure you're ready for this?" he asked her. "Nobody's going to make you do this if you really don't want to."

Danika gazed at the folder on the table for a moment with a slight frown on her face. Then she looked back at Roy. "No, it's okay," she replied, trying to make her voice firm and almost succeeding. She sat down on the bench next to him. "I'm ready."

Roy nodded with approval. "'Atta girl!" He glanced up at Scar, who moved closer to the table, standing by Danika's side. Scar gave him a hint of a nod.

"I went all the way down to the basement of Central Command," Roy went on in a lighthearted tone for Danika's benefit. "There's a special room where we keep a whole lot of old papers and files and other stuff that we just don't seem to want to part with. That's where I got this." He tapped the folder. "And when we're done with it, I'll take it back to Central and give it back to the nice old guy who works down in Archives, and it probably will never see the light of day again."

Danika waited in courteous silence, but she began to swing her feet, a sign that she was impatient.

"Let's get on with it," Scar prompted Roy quietly.

Roy cleared his throat. "Yes, of course."

He slid a finger under the cover of the file and lifted it. Inside was a stack of papers clipped neatly at the top with a pair of metal tabs. It was an ordinary personnel file, except that there was a large red stamp printed diagonally across the top page declaring this person to be deceased. But his photograph still gazed out from the upper right hand corner in glossy black and white. Kimblee had a ghost of a smile on his lips, as though amused, perhaps in anticipation of the opportunities that were opening up to him to use abilities that, outside of the military, might get him arrested or institutionalized as a madman. The person taking the picture had absolutely no idea what the joke was.

Roy turned to study Danika's features, trying to gauge her reaction. He wasn't really sure what he had expected. There was really nothing in the photograph to evoke horror, particularly from someone who was seeing it for the first time. Roy stole a glance up at Scar, whose face was set in grim silence. Others had their own associations with this image. He looked back at Danika, who had a thoughtful little furrow between her brows.

"Well?" Roy asked her finally. "What do you think?"

Danika tilted her head a little to one side and pondered an answer. "He's sort of…ordinary."

Roy almost chuckled. "You sound disappointed."

Danika looked up quickly. "Oh, no, I just…I don't know…I guess I thought he'd look…scarier."

"Not to look at," Scar remarked, then added, pointing to the file, "But remember, Danika, this is all that's left of him."

Danika frowned and considered the photograph once again. After a few moments, she said, "Um…aren't I all that's left of him?" She sounded as though the thought struck her as disquieting.

The two men exchanged a glance. The look in Roy's eyes said, she's yours, say something!

It took Scar a second or two to deliberate, then he said, "If Kimblee had any measure of goodness in him, he left it all behind in you, Danika."

Danika looked up at him, and for the first time since she came through the door, a smile grew on her face.


End file.
